Autumn in our Hearts
by SGAFan
Summary: Learning of a planet that may provide a wealth of advanced technology, Elizabeth sends Sheppard’s team to investigate. What they find threatens not only their lives and Atlantis’s existence but makes them question their own beliefs and actions. Early S2.
1. Book I Ch 1

Part 1: Descent

"_The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live." _

_~Flora Whittemore_

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It was days like today when John knew, without a doubt, that Murphy's Law was universal. Specifically, it was the old adage "just when you thought things were simple…" that stuck in his mind. Barely through the wormhole into Atlantis' Gate Room, he immediately coughed hard, before sneezing. He wiped a dirty hand across his face, and then shook his head and brushed his TAC vest. The action produced an impressive cloud of dust.

"You do realize I'll probably develop some funky Pegasus dust allergy now, thanks to this little excursion!" Rodney was continuing a tirade that had started on the other side of the wormhole and a half a galaxy away.

John rolled his eyes and kept walking. He was annoyed too –being covered in a fine dirt and having it work its way into places better left unmentioned was enough to piss anyone off –but at that moment, he wasn't sure what was worse, the dirt or listening to Rodney go on about it for the last fifteen minutes. Apparently, thousands of light years and interstellar 'gate travel had no effect on Rodney's Snark – O – Meter. _Oh yeah, Murphy is toast._ He looked up as Elizabeth descended the Gate Room stairs and walked towards them, only to stop a fair distance away and arch an eyebrow at his team.

"What happened?"

John coughed again, feeling the grit all the way down into his lungs. "Just a little dust storm."

"Little?" Rodney croaked. "We were lucky to find the gate!"

"I take it the planet isn't suitable for a beta site?" Elizabeth looked on the verge of laughing, but she valiantly held her smile at bay.

John stared back at her for a minute, trying his best not to look irritated. "No." With a note of annoyance to his voice, he added, "Although, we did find something else that might be interesting. But, if you don't mind," he brushed more dust off the sleeves of his jacket, "I'd rather debrief after a shower?" John raised his brows at Elizabeth, who finally gave in to her giggles.

"I think that can be arranged," she managed. "Thirty minutes good enough?"

John stared at her a minute longer before, being infected by her contagious mirth. "Good enough." Of all the potential hazards they could've encountered on M2M-716, a dust storm was really nothing more than an inconvenience. He chuckled quietly as he led his team from the Gate room.

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"So, Colonel," Elizabeth settled back in her chair, "you mentioned something interesting? Besides, sandstorms that is?" She smiled at John, who tapped his fingers on the conference room table. His hair was still damp and more spiky than usual, but at least he was clean.

"Yeah, it's…."

"Shouldn't you be asking me that?" Rodney interrupted, his gaze glued to his laptop screen and his hands flying over the keyboard with a soft tap-tap.

"Rodney," Elizabeth turned her attention to him. "You know the rules."

"Yes, but this time…."

"No exceptions." It was John's turn to interrupt. "No laptops during debriefings… or do we have to send you to bed without dinner?"

Elizabeth sighed quietly as Rodney fixed John with a cold stare, before shutting the lid of his laptop and crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine."

Elizabeth re-directed her question at Rodney, effectively ending any further verbal sparring between the two of them. "So, what did you find?"

"Ruins," Rodney immediately answered, "if you could call them that. Ten thousand years of sandstorms have reduced practically everything to, well, practically nothing. There was however, one particularly interesting pillar left."

"Interesting? How?" Elizabeth leaned forward and folded her hands on the table.

"We could still read the writing," John answered as he stared back at Rodney's annoyed expression, meeting it with an unfazed look of his own.

"What's this 'we' thing?" Rodney replied acerbically, "_I_ could still read it." He looked back to Elizabeth. "It was written in Ancient. Most of the words were gone, but I managed to decipher two." He smiled, looking immensely pleased with himself. "'Olot' and 'allies'. From the looks of things, they were probably in the same sentence but definitely meant to be associated to each other."

"Olot?" Elizabeth's brows furrowed before she looked first to Teyla then Ronon. Both shook their heads.

"Neither Ronon nor I have never heard of this world," Teyla confirmed.

Again, Elizabeth sat back. "Well, that's interesting to say the least. Do you think these Olotians were allies of the Ancients?"

"It's possible," Rodney answered, "and for them to be mentioned as 'allies' and not just 'protected' means they had to have been an advanced society. I'll know more if and when I find them in the Ancient database."

John swiveled his chair gently. "Doesn't it strike you odd that if there's an advanced and powerful society running around out there, we haven't heard about them before now?"

Elizabeth nodded. "They could've been destroyed by the Wraith," she surmised.

John shrugged. "Maybe. It's definitely worth a look. If we can find a gate address, at the very least we should send a MALP."

Elizabeth turned back to Rodney. "See what you can find in the database." She looked around. "Is that all?"

"Besides relentless sandstorms?" John quipped lightly. "Yeah."

Elizabeth smiled. "Very well." She stood. "Keep me apprised, Rodney."

His laptop already open again, Rodney waved vaguely at her. "Right," he muttered, clearly distracted.

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John turned away from the chow line and looked around, scanning the mess hall tables and musing over where to sit. His gaze caught on Ronon: in spite of the mid-day rush, Ronon sat alone, the only one at his corner table. John smiled slightly. He'd watched even his best officers tense around the big Satedan, and he couldn't blame them. While John had no doubt Ronon was one of the "good guys", he also knew that Ronon was lethal, and it wasn't just his gun that made him that way. Not to mention he towered over everyone and spoke to barely anyone. Then there were the scientists and civilian contingent. A dark smile flashed over John's face. Most of them practically flattened themselves against walls when they met the big man in a hallway. John's smile faded. He knew Ronon carried a lot of pain from the destruction of Sateda, but he bore it quietly. He was tough, moody, impulsive and growled a lot. No wonder most people gave him wide berth.

John's smile returned, this time respectful. The man had spent seven years running from the Wraith and lived to tell about it. No small feat. Truthfully, it was one of the biggest reasons John had pushed so hard for Ronon to be on his team. In spite of his moods, Ronon had a strong sense of honor and that carried a lot of weight with John. He knew, without a doubt that Ronon would always cover his six no matter the situation, just like the rest of his team would do, and he'd do for them. In this galaxy, that meant a hell of a lot.

John took a deep breath, plastered a relaxed and friendly look on his face, and confidently crossed the mess hall to Ronon's table. "Mind if I sit down?"

Ronon didn't look up as he took another bite of his sandwich. "Usually eat alone." His reply was muffled by food.

John set his tray down on the table and pulled out a chair, before sitting. "Pretty anti-social."

Ronon dropped his sandwich crusts and fixed John with a neutral stare. "Yep."

John arched his brows and picked up his glass of milk. "Right." He took a sip before attacking his food. "Quarters good?" he asked, around a bite of his sandwich.

Ronon grabbed the second sandwich on his tray. "Been here three months. Would've said something."

John sighed inwardly. Getting any conversation out of Ronon was like trying to bleed a turnip. "Look, I'm just trying to be friendly here."

"Don't have to." Ronon continued glowering down at his food tray.

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "No one said I _had_ to…." This time he sighed out loud. "I wouldn't have asked you to stay on Atlantis and join my team if I didn't think you could make a life here. You help us… we help you…."

"I don't need any help."

"That's not the point…". John dropped his sandwich and tried to regain control of a conversation that wasn't at all going as planned. "Okay, why did you stay then?"

Ronon sniffed and took a drink of water. He swallowed. "To fight the Wraith."

"Fight the Wraith," John repeated his voice barely a mutter. "Can't argue with that…." his voice trailed off as Ronon looked directly at him. He squinted slightly at the big man's silence. "What?"

Ronon looked down at his tray. "Nothing."

"Don't start that," John admonished lightly and held his neutral expression as Ronon glowered at him. "I know you spent seven years alone, but…." His voice trailed off as he took a moment to collect his thoughts. "Tell me," he insisted quietly.

The impartial mask on Ronon's face cracked just slightly. Enough for John to see a hint of something, and he swore it was vulnerability. The change was so slight John almost thought he was imagining it, until Ronon finally replied.

"Maybe someday be one of you." Ronon's deep voice was quiet.

John frowned. "Someday?" He shook his head. "You already are, big guy."

It was Ronon's turn to shake his head, his expression covered by his dreadlocks swinging back and forth. He stood and grabbed his tray before looking down at John.

John stared back at him silently. Ronon's impassive mask was impressive, but John could still see hints of emotion, mostly pain, betrayed in his dark eyes.

"I'm Satedan," he said simply.

"Ronon…," John started, only to be interrupted by the citywide PA.

"Colonel Sheppard's team to the Control Room."

John grabbed his half eaten sandwich and downed the rest of his milk

"You coming?" Ronon prompted.

Standing, John grabbed his tray and joined his teammate, mentally vowing to continue this conversation later. He took a big bite of the sandwich and followed his friend. "Right behind you."

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John crested the control room stairs just behind Ronon and crossed to where Rodney, Teyla and Elizabeth waited.

"About time you two showed up," Rodney groused. "This is important, you know."

John just stared back. "So was my empty stomach. What's going on?"

"I found Olot in the database," Rodney answered.

"You mean, I did." Radek Zelenka appeared from behind Rodney and pushed his glasses up further on his nose.

"Yes, yes!" Rodney snapped, not looking back at the Czech scientist. "We did."

"Found Olot in the database," John grumbled. His hastily eaten sandwich was sitting like a rock in his stomach. "And this couldn't wait a half hour until I finished lunch?"

"As a matter of fact, no!" Rodney shot back. "At least you got lunch, I've been going non-stop since I got back from that miserable planet."

"Whose fault is that?" John countered.

Rodney glared at him. "Not mine!"

"Gentlemen." Elizabeth's soft but firm interruption stopped retorts on both their lips.

With one, last annoyed glare at John, Rodney turned back to his laptop and tapped a few keys, before pointing at the flat display hanging from the ceiling behind him.

John stared at it, trying in vain to discern some shred of information from the Ancient runes that greeted his stare. "My Ancient is a little rusty." He shot a quick glare at Rodney. "Care to enlighten me?"

"According to the database," Elizabeth interjected, "the Olotians were a highly advanced society that enjoyed a close alliance with the Lanteans. They were trading partners, allies against the Wraith, and shared knowledge and scientific discoveries equally."

"Every indication we can find points to them being just as advanced as the Ancients," Rodney added. "We're talking things like intergalactic hyperdrives. Weapons and ships more powerful than anything the Wraith had or still have." His voice rose slightly in excitement. "Zed PM power sources."

"Why didn't they help?" Ronon asked.

John glanced back at him, before gazing pointedly at Rodney. "Ronon has a point. If they were so advanced, then why didn't they come to the aid of the Lanteans when the Wraith laid siege to the city? For that matter, how could the Wraith even win the war against the combined strength of two advanced civilizations?"

Rodney snapped his fingers. "Ah, the million dollar question… or rather the two million dollar questions…. Anyway, I wondered the same thing, until I read this." Rodney tapped another set of commands on the laptop. "According to the database, the Olotians were studying Ascension and, in fact, were close to achieving it as a race. As we know from our brief encounters with ascended Ancients both here and in Milky Way, one of the cardinal rules of ascension is non-interference: ridding yourself of corporeal matters and breaking the bonds to the physical world. So maybe they'd already ascended? But that's just a theory. This, however, is not." He punched a key on his laptop and John watched as the big display changed again.

John nodded to himself. "Now, that I recognize." He smiled.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Rodney replied with a flourish, "I give you the gate address for Olot."

John turned his gaze to Elizabeth and held his smile, knowing his expression conveyed his eagerness to explore this possibility.

Elizabeth returned his smile with one of her own. She turned and nodded at one of the technicians. "Ready a MALP for off-world recon."

It wasn't long before John was standing by the control room railing, staring down at the shimmering wormhole to Olot and watching as the MALP slowly disappeared through the event horizon. He turned away and walked back to Rodney's position and looked over his shoulder. "Well?"

"It hasn't arrived yet," Rodney snapped. "In transit… receiving telemetry." He squinted at the data. "Breathable atmosphere, tolerant temperature, no sign of toxins… conditions suitable for human life."

"Good start," John muttered. He watched as the video feed flickered then settled on an image. He smiled at the green grass and blue sky that greeted his gaze. "Looks nice."

"Hmm…," Rodney responded. He squinted at the display a moment longer, before pushing back from the computer. "I see no signs of technology or civilization, at least not within range of the MALP."

Elizabeth walked around to stand beside John and looked down at the display. "Still worth checking out, wouldn't you agree, Colonel?"

John smiled. "Yep. My team will be geared up and ready in fifteen minutes."

"Excuse me?" Rodney interrupted, "some of us have had no food since early in the morning. It'd be nice to get something to eat, unless you want me collapsing from hypoglycemic shock off world. In which case, by all means, lets charge off through the gate!"

John frowned, annoyance creeping into his expression. He half considered keeping the mission deadline as was, but discarded the thought. Rodney was hard enough to manage sometimes, but with low blood sugar John knew first hand that he was the worst human in two galaxies to deal with. Besides, he didn't relish carrying McKay anywhere if he did faint. "Fine. Thirty minutes."

"Thirty? That's hardly…." Rodney started.

"Thirty minutes, McKay," John interrupted, ending the conversation.

Elizabeth nodded. "You have a go."

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The Stargate sat in a huge meadow, its graceful arch the only thing that broke the plain of grass greeting John's gaze as he emerged from the wormhole. He stopped next to the MALP and looked around, his grip on his P-90 ready, but not alarmed. "McKay?"

Rodney came up next to him. "Just as the initial MALP readings indicated. No discernable energy readings." He looked up. "I'm not entirely sure this planet is even inhabited anymore. Ten thousand years of Wraith cullings is a long time." He looked around. "That said, the Ancients thought enough of these people to cite them as friends and talk about them in the database. Even if they're not around anymore, maybe there's something left we can use."

"I believe that this world is inhabited, Dr. McKay," Teyla countered.

Rodney's shoulders sagged. "I thought you said you didn't recognize the address!" He turned back towards her, an annoyed look on his face.

Curious, John also turned and looked at Teyla, who knelt not far from the gate.

"I do not," Teyla answered, "but there are tracks here that are not ours."

John walked up to her and looked over her shoulder at the fresh, distinct footprint in the soft dirt.

"Don't think they're ten thousand years old." Ronon's expression was tinged with amusement as he gently kicked some dirt over another track with the toe of his boot.

"No kidding!" Rodney snapped. He turned around and refocused his attention on the Life Signs Detector in his hand. "We still have to find these people. I'm not picking them up on the LSD, but maybe I can boost the scanning range of the MALP.…"

"If what we've encountered in Pegasus is any indication, the Gate is an important part of their society," John interrupted. "They can't be that far away, Rodney." He arched an eyebrow at Rodney's cold stare.

"I know that!" Rodney snapped. "But unless you're hiding some psychic power, we don't know where!" Rodney opened a panel on the MALP and started tinkering. "I could just reroute the power from the backups to boost the sensor range…."

John walked west of the gate, ignoring Rodney's rambling as he scanned the ground around them. A smile formed on his face as he spotted a well-worn narrow dirt path leading away from them. "Or," he interrupted Rodney's muttering, "we could just follow this trail." He looked back as Rodney's head popped up from behind the lid of the control panel.

"Trail?" Rodney's gaze narrowed. "Oh," He sighed loudly, "yeah. We could do that…." He closed the MALP's panel and walked towards them.

John looked back out across the plain, hoping that maybe the natives could help them find what they were looking for. "Okay, I'm on point, Ronon take the six. Rodney watch that LSD and let me know if anything changes."

John followed the narrow path as it crossed the plain, relishing in the warm sunshine that bathed his face. With the rainy season on Lantea in full force, it felt good to get away from the constant dampness that seemed to shroud the city in spite of its advanced environmental controls.

"A jumper would've been easier," Rodney muttered as he followed close behind John.

John sighed quietly. "Scaring the crap out of under-developed natives before we ever meet them isn't exactly how I like to start diplomatic relationships, McKay." Since they'd started missions through the Stargate, one thing they had learned was that for many of the Pegasus natives, especially the less advanced ones, fast-flying ships that came through the Stargate meant only one thing: Wraith. He'd endured enough meet-and-greet missions where they'd spent the first hour convincing the natives they weren't going to hurt them to try and find a way that was less threatening. Besides, with the existence of Atlantis now a secret, low-profile reconnaissance seemed to be the best tactic.

"We could've used the cloak," Rodney groused.

"McKay," John rolled his eyes, "just... walk."

"Hello…," Rodney muttered, "I'm picking up life forms ahead. Dozens."

John squinted at the horizon. Barely visible against a not-so-distant tree line, he was able to make out the distinct shapes of small buildings. He smiled. "That looks promising."

"Huh," Rodney's voice was decidedly less than impressed, "looks like our village."

John continued on, as the path under his feet widened and became increasingly worn. At the edge of the village, he paused as Teyla stopped next to a small cart with several bolts of cloth stacked on it and fingered a corner of material.

"This is exceptional craftsmanship." She looked at John. "I would be very interested in trading with these people for goods such as this."

John smiled and nodded. "Might be able to arrange that." He turned and straightened slightly as a dark-haired woman in simple, rough-spun clothing stopped in her tracks and stared at them. His smile was friendly as he tried to assuage the uncertainty and fear he saw on her face. "Hi," he ventured. He lowered his gun as he watched her swallow hard.

"Hello," she said quietly.

John glanced left as Teyla walked up next to him. "We are friendly travelers." She smiled warmly. "We have come through the Ring of the Ancestors to meet your people and possibly discuss trade."

John nodded slightly in approval as the woman visibly relaxed, although her expression remained slightly confused. Long ago, he'd learned to give Teyla free rein in situations like this. She had an unswerving ability for instilling confidence in the people they met, having negotiated off-world trade agreements all of her adult life.

"I am Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tagon. These are my companions," she waved her hand at the group, "Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, Ronon Dex and Dr. Rodney McKay." She nodded respectfully at the woman.

The woman, apparently putting her confusion aside, pressed her right hand to her chest, before extending it, palm up, towards Teyla. "My heart is open. I am Mashta. Come, I will take you to Brantor. He is the one you must speak with." She turned and headed towards the village.

John gestured to Teyla, who took lead behind Mashta. He fell in behind her, with Rodney following and Ronon bringing up the rear. "I don't think they get a lot of off world traders," he commented quietly to Teyla.

Teyla nodded in agreement. "Yes. I sense her hesitation, though she seems accepting."

John sighed quietly. "Yeah. Keep your eyes open though." He waited for Teyla's silent nod before he looked back, making eye contact with Ronon. He casually and subtly scratched his face just below his right eye, the unspoken code between them that meant stay sharp, and the big Satedan nodded in understanding, his hand settling on his blaster.

As they headed into the village, John looked around him. The huts were roughly constructed, their roofs tightly thatched and their walls made of straw and mud. Barely out of what he'd call the dark ages. John began to doubt these people would be of any help, and he felt a touch of sorrow. For such an advanced society to be reduced to this…. _Chalk up one more civilization destroyed by the Wraith…. _He sighed quietly.

"This is not promising," Rodney muttered, his words echoing what John was thinking.

John nodded slightly. "Won't hurt to talk with them," he answered.

"Mashta?" Ronon asked. "Who is Brantor?"

She glanced back at him, but continued walking. "He is our Falenum. He speaks for our village."

"Falenum?" Teyla asked.

Mashta nodded. "Yes. He guides us in the Way and keeps our feet set firmly on the Path."

"Spiritual leader," Rodney muttered and John nodded in agreement.

John tried to look as warm and unthreatening as possible to the villagers they passed as his team followed Mashta to a hut at the edge of the settlement.

She stopped at the door. "Brantor? It is Mashta. I bring visitors from the Ring."

John suppressed his surprise as, after a moment, the stout wood door opened. The man standing in the doorway couldn't have been more than forty; for some reason, John had expected someone much older. Brantor was tall, nearly the height of Ronon, but not as muscular. His angular features were neutral as he looked first at Mashta then right at John.

John found himself put a little on guard by the man, and knew his expression held hints of it, but nonetheless he smiled slightly. "Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard."

"Visitors from unknown worlds never come through the Ring to us." Brantor's tone was tense.

Slightly confused, John, nonetheless, stared evenly back. His grip on his P-90 reflexively tightened, but he kept the weapon lowered.

Teyla stepped forward. "I am Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tagon of Athos. We come to talk and possibly to trade."

"I have not heard of you."

John's gaze narrowed at Brantor's cold, unchanged attitude. Silently, he looked over at Teyla, who held onto a sincere expression. His gaze quickly switched back to Brantor. "We just want to talk with you, that's all."

"You many not know of me," Teyla continued, "but my people have a long, proud history of fair trading. I know you must take my word for that, but we have much to offer in trade," she let a light smile touch her features, "and in friendship."

John relaxed a little as, after a long moment, he saw Brantor's expression change from cold suspicion to cautious warmth. It was a start.

Brantor stepped back and duplicated the gesture Mashta had given them. "My heart is open. I am Brantor." He gestured towards them. "Come, let us talk." He looked past them to Mashta. "Please tell Nasse we have guests."

John let Teyla lead as they entered the dimly-lit hut. Smoke from the fireplace created a haze, and the air felt close, but the room had a homey feel to it. Tapestries and paintings decorated the walls.

"Come, sit." Brantor pointed to a thick stack of furs and pelts near a small fireplace.

John eased himself down, cross-legged, on the furs. Teyla sat next to him and Rodney beside her. He looked up at Ronon, who stood behind them.

"I'll stand," Ronon's deep voice was quiet.

John looked back to Brantor, searching for signs of insult, but he just nodded.

"As you wish." Brantor seated himself on another pile of furs across from John. "You must understand my caution. There are very few worlds we trade with. I have never seen someone from an unknown world come through the Ring before." He looked at Teyla. "But you seem very sincere, and clearly your people are more advanced than mine. It is possible you could help us."

Silently, John glanced at Teyla, who crossed her hands on her lap and smiled at Brantor.

"We have a great many things we can offer," she stated plainly. "Medicines, materials to construct your homes, skilled craftsmen who can bring more knowledge to your people... among other things."

"Medicines would be most welcome," Brantor answered. "Winters are harsh for my people. A great many become sick, some even die." He looked away and muttered, "That weakens the Offering." He looked back at Teyla.

_Offering?_ John flicked his gaze to Teyla, seeing as much puzzlement in her expression as he felt.

Before he could ask, Brantor continued. "What is it you ask in return?"

"Information," Rodney broke in. "We think your ancestors were highly advanced and that knowledge…."

"Rodney," John interrupted sternly, "how about we let Teyla handle this?" He gave Rodney a firm stare, silently informing him that he wasn't leaving him an option.

Annoyance deepened in Rodney's expression for a moment. "Fine."

Teyla smiled and reacquired Brantor's attention. "We believe that your forefathers had a close association with the Ancestors. Somewhere, possibly not far from here, there may be ruins and remnants of their society. We have the means to understand and interpret their knowledge. This is something that could benefit all of us. We only ask for access to such things."

Brantor cocked his head. "Access to the Grounds of our Fathers is a small request indeed." His gaze narrowed. "These medicines, they are effective, are they not?"

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Teyla arch a brow at Brantor's subtle implication. He heard Ronon shift his weight behind them.

"Of all the…," Rodney started.

"McKay," John silenced him.

Teyla held her expression neutral. "They are, otherwise I would not be offering them to you. I would not risk the reputation of myself or my people."

Brantor sighed. "I am sorry. You are offering much, yet asking for little. Understandably, I am wary."

"Of course." Teyla smiled. "There are many in this galaxy who do not trade fairly, but I am not one of them. The information we may find could be useful for enlightenment and understanding by both our peoples."

Brantor smiled slightly. "Enlightenment is important to us all, Teyla Emmagan. You are wise to recognize this. I will, of course, trade with you for the chance of such knowledge."

"We'll share anything we learn with you," John added.

"Brantor," Teyla continued, "I would like to add one more thing. At the edge of the village is a cart with bolts of very finely woven cloth. I wish to trade for some of it for my people as well. We can discuss amounts later, if you are willing."

Brantor nodded. "The finely woven hair of the Pacta is one of our most valued items. You have an eye for quality."

"Sounds like a deal." John looked up as the door again opened and a teenage girl walked in carrying a tray holding a large carafe and several clay mugs. Her dark hair was pulled up in a tight bunch on the top of her head, and her features were fine and delicate.

"My daughter, Nasse." Brantor smiled at the girl as she knelt next to him. "Nasse, these people are here to trade with us."

John widened his smile slightly as the girl looked at him first.

She blushed and looked away from John, her gaze passing over each team member. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked up at Ronon's imposing figure, but a small smile from the Satedan reassured her. "Welcome to our home," she said quietly. Leaving the tray next to Brantor, she stood and quickly left.

"Your daughter is very pretty," John said respectfully to Brantor, who smiled back.

"Yes, and strong. I am proud of her. If the fate of the Offering passes over her, she will make some man a fine wife."

John's brows furrowed again at yet another mention of this mysterious 'Offering', but before he could ask about it, Brantor continued speaking.

"But, we are discussing trade. What, may I ask, do you hope to find in the Grounds of our Fathers?"

"It is possible," Teyla answered, "that the information we find here could help us in our war against the Wraith." Her expression turned hopeful and confident. "Something that would benefit us all."

John's gaze narrowed as Brantor sat back on his furs and stared at them for a moment, confusion clearly dominant on his face. John exchanged a puzzled look with Teyla.

"Why would you wish to war with the Wraith?" Brantor suddenly asked.

John slowly turned back towards the elder, trying to keep the incredulous feeling he had from his expression. "To stop them from killing innocent people like you," he suggested.

Brantor's demeanor was unchanged. He picked up several of the cups and handed them out to John's team. "I have never heard of people that hate the Wraith," he commented quietly. "We do not hate them, nor do we object to their presence." He shrugged and reached for the carafe.

John held out his cup, his gaze narrowing. He looked at the dark robust ale as it flowed from the carafe into his mug. "You don't hate the Wraith?" he repeated, not quite able to accept Brantor's statement.

Brantor straightened, confusion tingeing his expression. "Why would we?"

"Why?" Rodney interjected. "Oh, let me see. Could it be because they suck the life out of you whenever they get a chance?"

"McKay," John quietly reprimanded Rodney, who fell silent.

He watched as Brantor set the carafe on the floor next to them. The man's expression was tranquil and he flashed Rodney a slight, tolerant, smile. "We accept the sacrifices."

"You... accept them?" This time, it was Teyla's turn to object. The calm expression on her face cracked slightly, showing anger. "They are Wraith. They kill your people!"

Brantor's patient expression again turned confused. "Why would we object? It is far better than the alternative."

"Better?" Ronon interjected. "Easy for you to say, you've never been culled or been on a hive, waiting to die."

Inwardly, John winced, remembering that Ronon was one of the few who had been culled and lived to tell about it. He felt the big Satedan step up closer behind him, and he swallowed hard, foreboding spreading out from his gut. Something in Brantor's tone, in his words, tripped alarms in John's head.

"Oh yes, life-sucking death is so much better than a long, full life," Rodney added sharply.

"Rodney!" John snapped through clenched teeth. His gaze flicked to Teyla's shocked expression, before settling on Brantor. "What alternative are you talking about?"

Brantor blinked hard and stared intently at John. "You… do not know?"

John pursed his lips as his feeling of dread intensified. "No," he answered quietly.

Brantor's brows furrowed. "I have never met anyone who did not know.…" He folded his hands on his lap. "It has been many generations since the dark times of Namtar, but well our people know it. Passed from parent to child, we remember."

"Dark times?" Rodney questioned. "Oh, this can't be good…" his voice trailed off as a glare from John effectively silenced him.

"Go on, Brantor," John urged the man quietly.

"It is told that long ago, countless generations past, Namtar brought a great evil to our world. We were unprepared, unable to resist it or fight back. As the evil spread through our world, death followed it. None could escape, and no one survived its touch."

"Sounds like genocide," Rodney commented quietly.

"Namtar?" John questioned. He looked first at Teyla and then at Ronon, but both shook their heads.

"I am not familiar with that term," Teyla muttered.

"Me either," Ronon added.

"Sadly, the knowledge of who or what Namtar is or was has been lost to us." Brantor recaptured their attention as he continued his story. "Madness swept through those touched by this evil and, on its heels, death. Invisible to us, Namtar, the bringer of our death, stalked our people. We were powerless against it, and faced the end of our race."

Brantor paused and John glanced at Rodney. "Invisible? Some sort of disease?" he mused quietly.

"Probably," Rodney agreed. "Maybe a pandemic of some sort."

"One day," Brantor continued, "the Wraith came to us. What transpired between the queen, Eresgal, and several of our village Falenums is not known, but an agreement was reached. Eresgal promised to rid us of the disease and protect us from that which would seek our ruination… Namtar. We agreed to the Offering in return."

That word again. "Brantor," John interrupted. "What is the Offering?"

Brantor cocked his head slightly. "The Offering is a time when the Chosen Ones are taken by the Wraith."

John swallowed, his eyes widening. Brantor seemed tranquil, content even, as if the thought of Wraith cullings and his people dying was commonplace and perfectly normal.

"You willingly give your people over to the Wraith to die?" Ronon's voice was heated and John heard his hand slap to the gun at his side.

"You bastard," Rodney whispered.

"McKay," John's reprimand was light. Truthfully, he agreed, but also knew that offending these people so far from the Stargate could endanger his team.

But Brantor's expression remained tolerant. "The Offering is not to be feared, Dr. McKay. It is a time when those chosen give themselves for the preservation of our entire race. The Wraith protect us from Namtar, and as such it is their right to punish those that displease them. Perhaps this is what you have seen, and what drives your fear. But those that follow the Way and willingly give themselves over in the Offering are given swift passage to enlightenment, and spiritual oneness with those that came before us. Such a thing is to be honored, not despised."

Shock rendered John speechless, and he felt a cold cramp in his gut at the man's peaceful and accepting expression.

For the first time in several minutes, Teyla spoke. "You are surrendering your own people to a violent and painful death, Brantor. Not to something better."

Brantor was unfazed. "Death is but a doorway, Teyla Emmagan. In your eyes, I see the warmth of spiritual tranquility. I would expect you to understand that."

John pursed his lips, as Teyla looked away, the anger, pain and conflict clear in her expression. His mind raced, trying to process everything the man had told him. So many questions shot through his head, but one demanded the most attention. "Brantor, what do you know about the enemy the Wraith agreed to protect you from? Namtar?"

Brantor thought for a moment. "Only that it struck unseen. We do not know why it came to us, or how it brought us death, but after the agreement was reached, there was a great explosion in the sky. Night became day and Namtar was gone. The madness and death disappeared, and has not been seen again, nor will it be as long as we remain faithful servants to Eresgal."

"Excuse me," Rodney interrupted. "Eresgal?"

Brantor looked directly at him. "The Queen. She protects us all."

John swallowed hard and collected his thoughts. They needed to talk about this, and find out all they could about this "Namtar" and what these people's forefathers knew. He glanced at Teyla, but the Athosian woman was clearly rocked by all Brantor had told them, so he left her be. "Brantor," John looked back to the elder. "Are you still willing to allow us access to the ruins?"

Brantor smiled slightly and nodded. "Yes, for the knowledge is beyond us, but apparently not beyond you. We have great holes in our history, Lieutenant Colonel. Anything you can ascertain would be valuable to my people."

John's gaze narrowed. "Brantor, I'm going to be straight with you. We might find things out that contradict what you believe." He clenched his jaw and stared evenly at the man. It was a dangerous statement, but John felt the elder would take it in stride, and he needed to know.

Brantor shrugged. "I very much doubt that, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard." His voice held unwavering confidence.

John sighed, ignoring Rodney's snort of disbelief. "Okay," he answered neutrally, letting the matter drop. "We need to discuss this with our people, but when we come back, we'll bring the first shipment of medicines and would like to see the ruins then."

Brantor nodded. "That is acceptable. When can we expect your return?"

Hopefully tomorrow," John answered. He pushed himself to his feet, Rodney and Teyla following his lead.

Brantor stood also. "I look forward to your return. Your willingness to trade goods only for knowledge speaks highly of you."

"If it weren't for the technology…," Rodney started, his voice trailing off at John's warning look.

John nodded once to Brantor. "Hopefully tomorrow, then." He led his team out the door and stopped as Ronon closed it behind him.

"Of all the ridiculous, asinine, insane societies," Rodney muttered.

"Save it until we're out of the village," John snapped, firmly curbing his urge to wholeheartedly and vocally agree with Rodney. "Ronon, take the six. Let's go." He stalked off down the path towards the edge of the settlement, his mind reeling and anger churning in him. Part of him was shocked and disbelieving at what he'd seen and heard. Brainwashing was one thing, but this…. He sighed loudly. How could these people not have met traders that didn't agree with their beliefs? He glanced at Teyla. Her lips were set in a thin line, her jaw clenched, and she was staring straight ahead, not making eye contact with him.

John shook his head slightly as he returned his gaze forward. The Olotian beliefs were outrageous and unbelievable to him, but he couldn't imagine how Teyla, who had lost both her parents and countless numbers of her people to the Wraith, felt.

He heard Ronon's heavy footsteps behind him, and his thoughts lingered on the Satedan. He wasn't reassured by Ronon's silence: he could practically feel the big man's seething glare. Given Ronon's impulsive nature, John made a mental note to watch him closely whenever they were on Olot, and have a talk with him about the whole thing later.

Once they left the village and started across the wide plain towards the Stargate, it didn't take Rodney long to weigh in again.

"What is it with fanatics? How can they just willingly give themselves over to the Wraith?" Rodney waved his hands vigorously.

"They believe it is their salvation, Rodney," Teyla answered quietly. "For them, and for many of the peoples in this galaxy, my own included, belief and hope are sometimes all we have to sustain ourselves and go on in the shadow of the Wraith."

John stared at Teyla for a moment before he licked his lips and looked away. They had all been so busy thinking about how deplorable the Olotian "agreement" was that none of them had seen it quite like that. He'd never traveled through the Stargates in the Milky Way, but he'd read enough SGC reports to know that there were countless worlds of humans all over that galaxy who had spent generations worshipping the Goa'uld. Given the threat of the Wraith, would they have been any different? He sighed.

"If they want to give themselves to the Wraith, then let them. It's not my business," Ronon stated evenly. "As long as it's their choice, and not only Brantor's. But I'll still kill any Wraith that comes near me… and don't expect me to nod and agree with any of this."

"Ronon…," John's voice trailed off. He pursed his lips at Ronon's blunt statement, but kept walking. The Satedan had a gift for speaking plainly and seeing everything in black and white, but he had a point. You can only fight the fights you can win.… You can't save everyone.… He ground his teeth, chafing against the cold, impartial analysis. Could he really turn away and let the Wraith take advantage of these people? Harvest them like crops in a field? But did any of them have the right to turn a society's beliefs and values upside down instead?

"Yeah, well, someone has to tell them the truth," Rodney groused quietly.

John turned as Teyla stopped and stared intently at Rodney. "Do you know for sure what the truth is, Rodney? Or are you just replacing their belief with yours?"

"You can't seriously condone this… this… _arrangement_?" Rodney's voice was incredulous.

"I do not," Teyla replied immediately and firmly. "But who are we to tell them that they will not go on to something better when they die? To dispel their beliefs in place of ours? We have all seen ascended Ancestors, Rodney, and know it is possible. We know their ancestors were close to ascension. Who is to say some did not ascend? They are not to blame for the deaths." Her gaze narrowed. "The Wraith are." She turned and stalked towards the gate, leaving the three of them behind her.

John stared after her for a moment, before he sighed and trotted to catch up with her. He heard Ronon and Rodney walking a ways behind him as he glanced at Teyla. "Hey. You okay?"

Teyla swallowed hard, but didn't look at him. "I will be fine, Colonel. I am sorry if my comments were not appropriate."

John arched his brows. "Don't apologize. Rodney has his opinions; you're entitled to yours as well." He smiled slightly but she still wouldn't look at him.

"And you?" she asked quietly.

John winced. "I have mine too," he offered neutrally, quelling the anger within him.

Finally Teyla did look at him. Her gaze narrowed. "You agree with Rodney," she stated simply.

John sighed. "Teyla, I can't just sit by and tell the Olotians it's okay to line up for the slaughter."

"Nor can I, Colonel," Teyla answered. "But we do not have the right to tell anyone their beliefs are wrong."

John looked away. "We'll see what Elizabeth thinks." From the corner of his eye, he saw her nod slightly, but she said nothing. They walked in silence for several minutes before Teyla spoke again.

"It is curious that they have traded, but on such a limited basis." She sighed. "It has been my experience that trading peoples have a great many partners from several worlds."

John nodded. "Yeah, I wondered about that."

"I can't help but point out here that maybe there's a really good reason for that?" Rodney interjected. "A reason we're going to find out the hard way?"

John grimaced. "That thought crossed my mind too. Teyla?" He glanced at her.

Teyla shook her head. "I believe Brantor is sincere in his desire to help his people and trade honorably."

"He better be." Ronon's voice was cold.

One side of John's mouth quirked. "Your instincts are usually pretty good, Teyla."

The gate came into view and John pointed at the DHD. "Dial, Rodney, we have a lot to talk to Elizabeth about."

"With or without the solid evidence that we're not going to get screwed?" Rodney muttered as he walked up to the DHD.

John ignored him as he reached into his vest pocket for his GDO. Pulling it out, he punched in his personal IDC as he listened to the chevrons locking.

"What the...?" Rodney's fragmented question came on the heels of the gate whining and going dark.

John arched a cynical brow at Rodney. "Helps to dial the right address, McKay."

"Oh, you're hilarious," Rodney snapped. "For your information, Colonel, I did."

Suspicion crept into John's gut, along with a bit of foreboding. As annoying as it was, Rodney had a point; he never misdialed. John walked up behind Rodney and looked over his shoulder. "Do it again."

Rodney glared at him for a moment. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Dial!" John snapped, his tolerance for Rodney's behavior shortened by the alarm that was starting to build within him.

With a loud martyred sigh, Rodney turned back to the DHD and slowly input Atlantis' address, his actions exaggerated. Again, the first six chevrons lit, before the seventh remained dark and the gate disengaged.

"What the hell?" Ronon muttered.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," John answered. He looked questioningly at Rodney.

Rodney stared at him for a moment before looking down at the DHD. "I don't get it. We dialed in just fine. Of all the.…" His voice trailed off as he knelt and pulled off the cover over the DHD's control panel.

John stepped back as he pondered their situation. He couldn't help but shake the unease he still felt at Brantor and his people's beliefs. "Wonder if our newfound friends have anything to do with this?"

"You've got to be kidding?" Rodney's snappy voice was muffled by the DHD. "Them tampering with a DHD would be about as likely as a Neanderthal flying the space shuttle."

"Fixing is the hard part, McKay." John couldn't quite keep the annoyance from his own voice. "Breaking is easy."

"Well, there's no sign of blatant sabotage," Rodney answered. "Whoever did it, knew what they were doing and altered it without just mashing away at the crystals." He took a moment to stick his head out from under the DHD. "Still think our medieval friends did it?"

"Okay!" John conceded. "So who did?"

Rodney's brows furrowed as his expression turned exasperated. "You know, I'd just pluck that answer out of thin air from you, but I foolishly left my crystal ball back on Atlantis!"

John rolled his eyes. "Just... fix it!"

"Then _stop_ asking me _ridiculous_ questions!" Rodney's head disappeared under the DHD again.

John resisted the urge to kick one of Rodney's protruding feet, and just turned to his other team members.

Ronon shrugged. "Don't look at me."

"Perhaps it was the Wraith, to prevent the Olotians from dialing out to another world?" Teyla suggested.

"That is _so_ not comforting!" Rodney piped in.

John's eyes rolled skywards as he arched his brows and scanned the air above. "Gotta go with McKay on that one.…" He returned his gaze to Teyla. "Still, other traders have been able to come and go, so at some level the DHD still has to work." He turned back towards Rodney. "The DHD on Atlantis can be configured to lock out certain addresses and prevent them from connecting. Could it be that?"

Pausing in his work, Rodney scooted out from under the DHD. He shook his head. "No. The Atlantis DHD is unique in a lot of ways, that one included. Normal DHDs can't be configured that way.…" His voice trailed off as his eyes widened. "Oh, no...." He practically dove back underneath the device.

John quickly walked back to him. "What?" He stared down at Rodney.

Rodney emerged again. He had connected his data pad to the DHD and now his hands flew furiously over the keypad. "That's it."

"What's it?" John struggled to quell his frustration. "McKay!"

Rodney's head snapped up. "What? Oh! Yes. The DHD can't be configured to lock out certain addresses, but the scope of worlds it can contact can be limited in other ways." He looked down at his data pad again. "Back when the SGC first started off-world missions, they determined, well, Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter determined, that the reason they had trouble dialing other gates besides Abydos was because the addresses were inaccurate due to stellar drift. Because the Earth gate didn't have a DHD, they weren't accounting for ten thousand years of stellar drift and Abydos, because of its relatively close proximity to Earth, was the only world they could dial."

"Okay," John nodded, "so what are you saying?"

"That someone, probably the Wraith, disabled the stellar drift compensation program in the DHD."

"The what?" Ronon questioned.

John nodded in agreement. "Run that by me again?"

Rodney looked up, his annoyed expression passing from Ronon to John. "DHD 101 should be a requirement for all off world teams," he snapped. "Each time a gate establishes a wormhole to another one, information is transmitted from one DHD to the other, most notably any updates to planetary coordinates. It's like one gigantic network, with each DHD updating the others, so all of them are current. It's also a safety protocol, to keep any gate travelers from ending up in the situation we're in now."

"Okay," John held up his hand. "Hold on. So you're saying that this DHD isn't updating like the others in the galaxy, and those people that are coming here to trade are from planets close enough to Olot that they're not affected by stellar drift?"

Rodney smiled and pointed at him. "Exactly. I'll bet if we were to map the coordinates of Olot's trading partners, we'd find they're all in this sector of the galaxy."

"So when we dialed in.…" John started only to be interrupted by Rodney.

"The Atlantis DHD sent update information through the wormhole, but the program on this side was disabled, so this DHD didn't update."

John shook his head. It made perfect, rational sense. "That's why the Olotians have very few trading partners and have never met anyone outside that circle."

"Or anyone that does not follow their beliefs," Teyla added. "All of these associated worlds must be under a similar arrangement with the Wraith."

"She's right." Rodney grimaced. "I'll bet all their DHDs have a similar modification. Perfect way to keep your devout worshippers isolated from other, less friendly opinions in the galaxy."

"But still have the gate to use," Ronon added.

"Right." Rodney agreed. "And since Darts are the only Wraith ships small enough to come through the gate, and they have their own DHDs, they can dial wherever they like."

"And anyone outside this circle of worlds that dialed here by chance," Teyla added, "would have been stranded with no way to return home. Their people would've never dialed back, after their disappearance."

"So even if we dialed to one of those other planets the Olotians trade with, we'd probably still be in the same situation," John concluded.

"Most likely, yes." Rodney nodded.

"Okay, so what do we do now?" John arched his brows at Rodney. "Can you make adjustments to the DHD to compensate for stellar drift?"

"Oh right! Let me just pull those calculations out of thin air!" Rodney snapped. "Luckily, I have a better idea."

John waited through a moment of silence before speaking. "And that is...?"

"Reinstate the DHD update program," Rodney stated confidently. "When we don't check in with Atlantis, Elizabeth will dial in to contact us and when she does.…"

"The DHD will update," John finished, nodding. "Sounds like a plan."

"Wait," Teyla interjected. "When Atlantis dials us, this DHD will transmit its information to the Atlantis DHD, will it not?"

John looked at her for a moment before nodding and staring at Rodney. "She has a point. Is it possible we could screw up the Atlantis DHD in the process of trying to update this one?"

"Ah," Rodney smiled at Teyla, "at least someone was paying attention. But the answer is no. Each data stream has an algorithm that stores information about the age of the data, sort of like a time stamp. Because DHDs theoretically communicate very often with each other and therefore constantly transmit updates, part of the update program checks received data against current calculations and ensures that the most accurate data is kept."

"So in other words," John concluded, "the Atlantis DHD will receive the data stream from this one, but disregard it as outdated information?"

"Exactly." Rodney scooted back under the DHD.

"How long before we are overdue?" Teyla asked quietly.

John glanced at his watch. "We're due to check in an hour from now. Probably won't be long after that before Elizabeth dials in."

"You know?" Rodney interjected from under the DHD, "it'd really suck if the Wraith decided to show up before then."

"That'd be a hell of a coincidence." John shook his head. Still, a bit of worry sharpened his senses, and he tightened his grip slightly on his P-90. _It'd be just our luck…._ He looked at Rodney as the doctor stood and backed away from the DHD.

"That's it." Rodney smiled confidently. "Now we just wait for Atlantis to dial in."

Predictably, it was only slightly more than an hour before the gate suddenly lit up with an incoming wormhole. John turned back from where he'd been scanning the large open field, his gaze fixing on the gate.

"I really hope that's them," Rodney commented quietly.

John glanced at Teyla and Ronon, who both held their weapons ready. He lifted his own and flipped off the safety. His intense gaze fixed on the wormhole as it flushed into existence.

"Colonel Sheppard, this is Weir, please respond."

John sighed deeply, flipped the safety back on his P-90, and lowered it. He tapped his radio earpiece. "This is Sheppard. Thanks for calling."

"John? You're overdue to check in. Is everything okay?"

He smiled slightly. "It is now. Stand by." He looked at Rodney, who was staring intently at his data pad. "McKay?"

Rodney looked up and nodded. "Transmission complete. DHD is updated." He disconnected his data pad, replaced the cover on the DHD panel, stood and brushed his hands together.

John looked back at the active gate. "Elizabeth, we had a little problem on our end, but it's resolved now. I'll give you the details when we get back."

"Understood," Elizabeth responded. "When will that be?"

John smiled. "As soon as you shut down the gate, we'll dial back. If you don't hear from us in fifteen minutes, call again."

"Copy that," Elizabeth's voice was slightly puzzled. "I'm sure the explanation will be interesting."

John's smile faded. "You have no idea," he responded quietly.

"Look forward to it. Weir out."

On the heels of her sign off, the wormhole dissolved. John nodded at Rodney. "Dial." He held his breath as the chevrons lit one by one, only to exhale as the seventh chevron locked and the gate activated. He quickly input his personal IDC before leading his team back to Atlantis.

---------------------------------------

From her place on the balcony of the control room, Elizabeth had a bird's eye view of the gate as her alpha team returned from off world. A puzzled feeling still lingered within her as she left the balcony and quickly descended the stairs into the Gate Room. She met the team halfway to the gate and nodded once at John. "Colonel. How did it go?" Her gaze narrowed slightly as a dark look flashed across John's face.

"It was interesting, to say the least," he answered neutrally.

She looked away from him, noting the somber looks on the faces of the rest of his team before returning her gaze to him. "You can tell me all about it in the briefing. Fifteen minutes?"

John nodded. "Sounds good."

Elizabeth stood motionless watching, as her team made their way to the east exit. Her mouth twitched slightly in concern as she headed for the stairs.

It didn't take Elizabeth fifteen minutes to reach the conference room, and she spent the time waiting for John's team to arrive mulling over what she'd seen on their faces. John's expression had been a cross between cynicism and anger Teyla's uncertain, Ronon's just plain angry and Rodney's expression was more dour than usual. What happened? She knew something had and judging by their demeanors, it wasn't good. Still, they had come back easily, weapons unfired, so it couldn't be all that bad, could it?

She looked up as the team came in together and found seats. Leaning forward, she folded her hands on the table and looked John in the eye. "So, tell me about Olot. Did you meet the natives?"

John sighed deeply. "Yeah, we did. They're pretty primitive, Elizabeth. Whatever technology their ancestors had, they don't."

Elizabeth nodded slightly. It wasn't unexpected, but she still had to hold back her disappointment. "Is there anything left of their advanced society?"

"Possibly," Rodney interjected. "They referred to a place, the 'Grounds of our Fathers' that seem to be ruins leftover from when they were an advanced race. They've agreed to let us explore them in exchange for medicines to help them through the winter. It's worth checking out."

"Sounds good," Elizabeth responded. "I'll have a fair trade ready for when you go back."

"Well," John sighed loudly, "there is one hitch."

Elizabeth smiled wryly. "I was wondering when you'd get to that." When her comment didn't spark a reaction from John, she immediately sobered. "What is it?" She watched him as he briefly glanced at Teyla before looking back at her. "John?"

"They're Wraith worshippers, Elizabeth," he said quietly.

Confusion swarmed through her and she shook her head in disbelief. "Worshippers?"

"They believe that those taken in what they call an 'Offering' reach spiritual enlightenment and oneness with those who came before them," Teyla answered. "Because of this, they willingly accept the cullings."

Elizabeth just stared at Teyla for a moment, before she dropped her head and sighed deeply. _Why couldn't these things ever be simple?_ "They think if they're culled they ascend? That's… unusual," she managed, still trying to get control of her shock.

"There's more." John stated plainly.

She looked up at him. "More?"

"It seems," Rodney piped in again, "at one time they were devastated by some sort of plague. Something they called 'Namtar'. Sounded like it was some kind of pandemic." Rodney shook his head slightly. "Anyway, their forefathers made this pact with a Wraith queen they call Eresgal and she, apparently, rid them of this plague." He snorted. "They think the alternative to this pact is the death of their entire society."

"So even if they wanted to escape the cullings, they're too afraid they'd all die of this plague to do it," John explained.

"Apparently," Teyla added, "there is more than one society the Wraith have made into subservient worshippers. The Olotians spoke of trading with a few other worlds, yet they have never encountered beliefs other than their own. At the time, I believed it to be unusual, as most worlds trade with a great many partners. However, there was no reason to be alarmed. It was only a curiosity, at the most."

"Until we found out the automatic update program on the DHD had been disabled," Rodney interrupted. "Seems the Wraith, or rather a small group of them, have set up their own little worshipping society in that corner of the galaxy. My guess is the planets the Olotians trade with are all in the same sector, so they're close enough to dial each other without compensating for stellar drift."

"That's why you needed us to dial in?" Elizabeth questioned. "So the DHD would update?"

Rodney turned a cynical smile on John. "See? Someone pays attention to basic DHD mechanics." He looked at Elizabeth and nodded. "Yes."

Elizabeth sat back in her chair and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Rodney, there's no chance that you all were infected with something, is there?"

Rodney snorted. "Already thought of that. No. I'd say the chances are slim at the most. From what the village elder, Brantor, told us, this Eresgal didn't just cure them but rid them of the plague entirely. Something about 'night becoming day and wellness sweeping through'…." Rodney's voice trailed off.

Elizabeth looked up, her eyes widening at the appalled look on Rodney's face.

"McKay?" Ronon leaned towards him.

"Oh no," Rodney muttered.

"Rodney, details." John sat forward his hands flat on the conference room table.

"Madness and death. Night becoming day, and instantaneous healing of the sick." Rodney looked up, his shocked gaze passing over each of them. "Don't you get it? It was a nanovirus! It had to be. The 'night becoming day' thing was probably something similar to a thermonuclear explosion producing an EM pulse. Just like what you did last year, Colonel."

"Hold on," John raised his hand. "Are you saying this 'Namtar' is the same nanovirus that infected Atlantis last year?"

"Yes!" Rodney's tone was exasperated. "Or something similar. It has to be; it's the only logical conclusion. Mad delusions, horrifying death... sound familiar?" Rodney swallowed hard. "This means the creators of this nanovirus are… or were the same race that seemed bent on destroying the human race…. In the most painful way possible, I might add."

"Sure as hell would like to know who those guys are… or were…," John groused quietly.

Rodney's eyes flicked around the room, a surefire indication that his mind was in overdrive. "That'd explain why the Ancients had that damned thing on Atlantis in the first place. If someone was using it to wipe out human worlds, or in this case allies, they could've been studying it."

Elizabeth took a deep breath and collected her thoughts. "Rodney, we don't know anything for sure. Right now you have a theory that happens to fit the facts… and the facts are mostly from a story you heard from one of the natives. We have yet to encounter any indication of who created this nanovirus anywhere in the galaxy."

"Well, true, but Olot is on the far side of the galaxy…." Rodney scratched his head and grimaced. "We need to get into those ruins and see what we can find out."

"If Rodney is right, and this queen did destroy a nanovirus," Teyla interrupted quietly, "then these people have been living under a false belief for many generations."

Elizabeth stared for a moment at Teyla. The Athosian woman's face was a mask of controlled anger, but also to the trained eye there was a hint of hesitation present. It was almost as if she was angered by the deception, which was expected, but also hesitant to do anything about it. Elizabeth pursed her lips. That would fit. Teyla had a deep respect for the cultural diversity in her galaxy, even if she didn't fully agree with many worlds' beliefs. Elizabeth switched her gaze to John and then Ronon. The fury on both men's faces were much easier to read.

"The Wraith took advantage of the Olotian's situation to make a society of willing livestock." John's fuming voice was quiet. He looked at Elizabeth. "We can't just sit here and not do something to put a stop to this, Elizabeth."

"He's right," Ronon growled.

She sighed. She should've expected this reaction from John. He was a career soldier, but more than that, he had a strong moral compass that he judged everything by. In a lot of ways, the world was black and white for him: there was a clear wrong and a clear right. And as a man and not just a soldier, John Sheppard would never sit by and allow something like this to happen without trying to put a stop to it. It was a trait she admired and respected, but also felt the need to rein in on occasion. Right now, she wasn't sure if this was one of those times or not.

_And then there's Ronon…._ God knows, he'd want to act, and could she blame him? His hatred of the Wraith ran deep and strong, fueled not only by what they'd done to him personally but to his people as well.

Deep inside, her diplomatic training shouted a warning to her. Who are we to tell a society what they can and cannot believe? She clenched her jaw. Not for the first time since she'd led this expedition to Atlantis, her own diplomatic beliefs were being challenged in ways she'd never experienced on Earth. They had no right to impose their beliefs or their ways of life upon any other society; of that, Elizabeth was certain. But this wasn't just a case of people believing that women's faces should be covered, or that taking their pictures robbed them of their soul. This was blatant deception by the Wraith: a deception that had led and was still leading to the deaths of countless Olotians.

More than once in her diplomatic career, she'd brokered negotiations that were clear interventions into local cultural conduct, because what was happening was a crime against humanity. Morally, was this any different that ethnic cleansing in Yugoslavia? She'd intervened there; should she here? Could she ever look at herself in the mirror again if she turned away and did nothing? But could she live with herself if she did interfere in a culture that had apparently existed in relative stability and comfort for many years?

"Elizabeth?"

John's quiet prompt pulled her from her thoughts. She put on the strongest face she could muster and looked him square in the eyes. "Our purpose on Olot is to try and obtain whatever information and possible power sources the Olotians might have had at one time, not to effect change on their society or their beliefs." She pushed back from the table and stood, effectively heading off the argument she knew was ready to start. "You'll return to Olot tomorrow to begin research on the ruins. Take an archeologist as well. I'll speak to Carson about the supplies for the trade. That's all." She watched as Rodney, Teyla and Ronon filed from the room, their expressions ranging from uncertainty to anger.

As they left, she looked down at John, who sat unmoving, his back rigid. "Colonel?" she asked, trying to stay neutral in the face of what she knew was coming. Having worked closely with him for over a year, Elizabeth knew damn well that he wouldn't just let something like this drop. She straightened her shoulders and stared evenly back at him as he stood and crossed to the doors.

Laying his hand on one of the open doors, he muttered "Close" and the doors instantly obliged. When he turned to face her, his voice was quiet, but still holding a raw anger. "The Wraith are taking advantage of and killing people that can't defend themselves… and they've been doing that for God knows how long," he stared coldly at her for a moment, "and you're telling us to just turn our heads and pretend it's not happening?"

"John," she kept her voice even, "it's not our place to tell another society that what they believe is wrong."

"They're being slaughtered, Elizabeth!" His voice rose in volume.

"That's happening all over the galaxy," Elizabeth raised her own voice slightly to counter him. "Whether people worship the Wraith or not, they're still being culled."

John abruptly turned away and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "They're defenseless. I'm so sick and damn tired of standing by and doing nothing!" he spat.

"We can trade with them, and give them things to help make their lives better, like medicine," she reasoned. "That's doing something."

John turned back. "Right. So they're good and healthy when they're culled!" He put both hands on the table and leaned heavily on them before dropping his head. "It's not right to leave them in the dark like this," he said quietly. "They should know."

"How is that going to help them?" Even as she argued with him, she was fighting her own emotional urge to agree with him. "Shattering their society won't change anything. They'll still be culled. You know that."

He looked up. "They can fight. We can help them." Raw determination blanketed his expression.

"How?" Elizabeth shook her head. "John, we can't even defend ourselves from the Wraith, much less anyone else." She stared evenly at him, silently urging him to see her point. It was the truth. They only had one ZPM to power the shield and cloak. Right now, the only thing that stood between them and obliteration was that the Wraith believed they had destroyed themselves. If that cover was ever blown….

"We can't help them, and we can't interfere," she reasoned quietly. "You know that."

His head dropped and she could see the muscles in his cheeks twitch as he clenched his jaw tightly. "Damn it." Spinning and stalking to the doors, he slapped his hand on the doorframe and snapped, "Open!" Barely waiting for the door to crack open, he stormed from the conference room.

Elizabeth stood there, watching as he swiftly crossed the control room and disappeared down the back stairs. She sighed quietly and rubbed her eyes as her own emotions churned within her.

----------------------------------------------

John could hear the gentle lap of waves against the city, in spite of his pounding heart. Recently, thanks to Rodney's in-depth schematics of Atlantis, he'd had found a long, secluded route around the outside of the city that was perfect for a run. On nicer days, he'd switched his daily run from inside to outside, and today was one of those days. He could feel the tension, mostly brought on by a less than restful night, working out of his body. But, no matter what he did, his mind dwelled on the Olotians and he couldn't get his thoughts away from them.

"_John," Elizabeth's voice was quiet. "It's not our place to tell another society that what they believe is wrong." _

"The hell it isn't," John muttered to himself, his soft voice slightly breathless. Nearing the end of his run, the narrow path he'd followed widened out onto the large, smooth deck of the East Pier, and he slowed to a walk. Hands on his hips, he breathed deeply and rapidly as he crossed the pier, the brisk, ocean breeze cooling him. As he reached the edge, he stopped and looked down at the ocean far below. Devoid of a guard-rail, this wasn't the safest place to view the ocean, but that really didn't matter to him. He slowly sat down on the edge, letting his feet dangle over the side. He leaned back, his palms warmed by the sun-soaked deck plating, and stared out over the water.

They'd had their conflicts before, him and Elizabeth, and he never once liked it when they got crossways of each other. They'd been through enough that he'd developed a deep respect for her and her leadership, and he could almost always see her point. Hell, most of the time he agreed, but not now… not this time.

The warm sun on his face triggered memories of an even hotter sun….

_John ducked into the field hospital and escaped the baking Afghan sun. He nodded slightly at a medic, who acknowledged and walked over to him. _

"_Can I help you, sir?"_

"_I'm looking for Captain Phelps, sergeant." John scanned the room, searching for the injured officer. _

"_Yes, sir. This way." The sergeant turned and crossed the small one-room medical station, and John followed. He stopped next to a bed and when John approached, he was met by the smiling face of Phelps. _

"_Major, good to see you, sir." Phelps looked pale but alert._

_John waved a casual dismissal to the sergeant and sat down in a folding chair next to Phelps' cot. His gaze passed over the captain's heavily bandaged left leg. "How ya doin' Captain?"_

_Phelps shrugged. "Been better but I'll be fine, sir. They're shipping me to Kabul tomorrow, then on to Brandenburg." His smile faded slightly. "Sir, I… I don't know how to thank you…."_

_Memories of mortar fire and screams of pain echoed in John's head. "Don't," he cut off the captain. "Flying into hot zones and pullin' you guys out is my crew's job."_

_Phelps nodded. "Yes, sir. But," he smiled again. "Thanks."_

_John stood. "You're welcome. Take care of yourself, Captain."_

"_Yes, sir. You too, sir."_

_John was heading for the exit when a weak and wheezing cough from the back of the tent caught his attention. He turned, brows furrowing as he walked past several bunks to the back corner. His frown deepened at the sight of the slight figure of an Afghan woman who lay on the cot in front of him. Woman was a stretch, he realized, as she couldn't have been more that seventeen years old. She wheezed again, clearly struggling to breathe; as John turned to look for help, a sergeant medic hurried past him to the girl's side._

"_Shoma hub ast?" he asked quickly, as he placed the end of his stethoscope on her chest and listened._

"_Mariz… hastum…" she muttered, her fevered thrashes weak. "Chiy gap ast?"_

_John unconsciously took a pace closer to her bed as he listened to the medic continue to speak Farsi and try to calm her down. A tall colonel walked past him and directly to the girl's IV. Wasting no time, he injected a syringe of medication and stepped back as the girl relaxed into the cot, her eyes closing. _

_The colonel turned and met gazes with John. "Need something, Major?"_

_John straightened slightly. "No, sir." He pressed his lips together for a moment. "Is she going to be okay?" _

_The colonel looked at the girl for a moment before walking over to John. "Advanced case of tuberculosis. Her family was killed by Taliban insurgents. An SF unit found her in a bombed-out building in a small village not far from here. The Red Cross is arranging for her to be flown to Kabul tomorrow, and trying to find her a sponsor to take her to the States, but I doubt much can be done. If it'd been caught earlier…." He paused, sighing. "Damn Taliban. The women of this country have received next to no medical care. Kind of hard to diagnose and treat a patient, when you can't touch her or examine her in any way." A hardness settled around his eyes. "That's going to change." _

_John licked his lips and shook his head in frustration. He didn't know the girl, but somehow that didn't matter. "She's just a kid…," his voice trailed off._

"_I know, Major. I have two teenage daughters. Believe me, I know." _

John sighed as he slowly came back to the present. He'd seen a lot of tragedy in war, but the plight of that girl, more than just about anything save the deaths of Mitch, Dex and Holland, stood out in his mind. He dropped his head and shook it slowly. She'd ended up that way because of a cultural belief, but it was one that transcended the boundaries of humanity and decency. His mind settled on the Olotian girl, Nasse. She wasn't dying of tuberculosis, or some other disease, but was her situation any different? How far could you stretch non-interference before you had to step in, in the name of basic humanity? His moral code might not be shared by everyone, everywhere, but wasn't there some line where wrong was just plain wrong? A point where human decency outweighed cultural differences?

Again he sighed, this time deeply, as he realized that, whether or not that mythical point existed, his own standards, his code, the code that he lived by and that helped him sleep most nights, wouldn't let him accept this arrangement the Olotians had bound themselves to. No matter how "right" they thought it was, and no matter how strongly Elizabeth insisted that they not interfere, he couldn't stand by and accept it.

The familiar tension he'd carried since yesterday's trip to Olot returned to him, in spite of his vigorous exercise. Sighing, he stood and slowly headed back into the city.

-------------------------------------

The warm Olotian sun bathed his face as John emerged from the wormhole. Moving clear of the gate, he stopped and looked around, admiring the blue sky and green grass. He looked left as the rest of his team emerged.

"Oh yeah." Their archeologist, Dr. Myers, smiled. "Definitely a perk of being the head of my department: I get first dibs on going off world." She walked past John and casually looked around.

John watched her for a second and was reminded of how lucky he was to be able to go off world routinely. The vast majority of Atlantis' personnel spent their entire tours in the city, never getting the opportunity to go through the Stargate. _Remember how lucky you are the next time you're facing down a bunch of Wraith…. _John's smile turned cynical. "Lorne and a team of Marines brought the medical supplies through earlier, so we'll make contact with Brantor, and he can guide us to the ruins." John started down the familiar path towards the Olotian village. "I'm on point, Ronon take the six."

He pulled in a deep breath of the fresh Olotian air but inside, though, his thoughts were in turmoil, Elizabeth's orders ringing in his ears.

"_Don't interfere."_

His jaw clenched, pushing his lips into a thin line. He saw her point; under other circumstances, he'd agree with her. But not here, not now. These people were standing in the Wraith chow line without raising so much as a finger to defend themselves. Beliefs be damned, they had a right to know the Wraith had been deceiving them for thousands of years.

"It's hard to believe these people worship the Wraith, but I guess it's not entirely unexpected," Dr. Myers commented quietly.

John pulled himself away from his thoughts and briefly looked over his shoulder at her. "I don't know, it surprised the hell out of me," he quipped dryly.

"Well, speaking from an anthropological standpoint, it's not as rare as you think to practice sacrificial religions. The Incas did it, and so did the Mayans. Take the Ice Maiden, for example. A five hundred year old mummy found on Mount Ampato in Peru. She was killed by Inca priests to appease the gods of the mountain."

"Yeah, I think this is different," Rodney's voice was decidedly sarcastic.

"Not really," Myers countered. "The Incas sacrificed their own to supposedly keep the mountain from erupting and destroying them. The Olotians sacrifice their own to the Wraith to save themselves from some unseen destruction. It's remarkably similar."

"The Wraith are deceiving them," Teyla commented quietly.

"Granted," Myers answered, "but the impact on their society is the same."

"I still think we should tell them what's really going on," Ronon muttered.

_Amen to that…,_ John agreed silently, but he bit back the words.

"I suggest you be close to the Gate when you do," Myers cautioned. "People that are ingrained with their religion enough to accept human sacrifice often don't take kindly to being told otherwise, whether true or not. Look at Galileo who was labeled a heretic and imprisoned for supporting the theory that the Earth revolved around the sun, not the other way around; or Medieval Europe, where they burned alchemists at the stake, believing that science angered God."

"Hear that, Rodney?" John pushed aside his frustration. "They might make a shish kabob out of you."

"Very funny. You do realize you're duty bound to rescue me in that event?" Rodney snapped back.

"Oh I don't know," John smiled slightly. "A Bar-B-Q could be fun…."

"Well, whatever the reason," Rodney interrupted insistently, "this 'Namtar' was destroyed a long time ago. These people are following a false religion, and the Wraith are using that to maintain a willing food source…. Hey!"

John stopped and turned, his gaze narrowing. Dr. Myers had stopped in her tracks, causing Rodney to nearly run into her.

"Want to warn a guy?" Rodney complained.

"What did you just say?" Myers had turned to face Rodney.

"You could warn me!" Rodney's voice rose.

Myers shook her head. "No, before that. Did you just say Namtar?"

John walked back towards them. "Doctor?"

Myers brow furrowed. "In Earth mythology, Namtar was the Mesopotamian and Sumerian god of pestilence."

"Are you saying they're the same?" John questioned. He shook his head, _or it's a hell of a coincidence…._

Myers shrugged. "Possibly. We know that when the Ancients returned to Earth ten thousand years ago, they wove their stories and experiences into several mythologies. The Greek myth of Atlantis and the Arthurian legends of Merlin and Morgan LaFay are just a couple of examples. It's possible this mythology first used in Sumerian society could've stemmed from the Ancients."

John thought of the Goa'uld, the Wraith, and now this Namtar. "Why doesn't any of this make me feel any better?" he muttered. He turned and headed up the trail. "Come on. We're not going to get any answers here, but we might from the ruins."

He walked briskly on down the path, confident his team would follow. His eyes flicked from one side of the trail to the other as, deep inside, his trouble alarm started making noise at him. Everything about this felt wrong, but he knew they couldn't just turn away. The potential knowledge the ancient Olotians had was worth the considerable risk to him and his team, even if he didn't like it.

At the pace he set, and in spite of Rodney's complaining about it, they made it to the village in quick time. He waved as he caught sight of Nasse escorting an elderly woman through the village.

Nasse stopped and waved back. She held tightly to the old woman's arm as John and his team approached them. "Colonel Sheppard. It is good to see you again."

John smiled back for a moment. "You too." He made eye contact with the old woman who stared at him through wrinkled, but sharp eyes.

"This is my grandmother, Nyra," Nasse continued. "Grandmother these are the off-worlders I told you about."

John inclined his head slightly, and gave the old woman a friendly smile. "Ma'am."

Nyra returned the smile and made the Olotian gesture of welcome. "My heart is open." Her smile widened. "How old are you, my boy? My granddaughter is nearly of age."

John arched his brows as he felt a blush creep up his cheeks.

"Grandmother!" Nasse scolded. "Let me take you home." She flashed an embarrassed look at John, before gently pulling her grandmother towards a nearby hut.

"Relax, child," Nyra commented as she shuffled along next to Nasse, "I am not so old that I cannot recognize a fine man when I see one."

With the typical flustered bearing of a teenage girl, Nasse's expression turned mortified as she again looked back at John. "I will return as soon as my grandmother is settled." Not waiting for an answer, she ushered the old woman into the hut.

John cleared his throat, scratching his eyebrow as he tried to ignore his hot cheeks.

"You just can't turn it off, can you?" Rodney's tone was a cross between annoyed and exasperated.

"Don't start, McKay," John warned.

"You're old enough to be her father!" Rodney added.

"Great! That makes me feel a lot better, thanks!" John glared at Rodney. He thought he heard a stifled chuckle come from the general vicinity of Ronon, and he briefly turned his glare onto the amused look on Teyla's face. His glance caught Myers who, not as close to him as his team, was doing a good job of holding a neutral face, but her eyes betrayed her suppressed amusement. "Can we talk about something else?" he demanded. He turned away, further conversation headed off by Nasse emerging from the hut. He sighed quietly at the flustered look her face still held. As she walked up to them, he tried to smile reassuringly. "The Grounds of your Fathers?" he asked gently, trying to change the subject.

Nasse nodded. "Yes. Father asked me to lead you there, for he is busy with duties here."

John stepped back and gestured down the path. "Lead the way." He followed silently behind her as she led them back down the familiar track from the Stargate, until she abruptly turned off and started across the grasslands. As his legs cut a swath through the knee length grass, he lengthened his stride until he was walking side by side with Nasse.

After a moment, she glanced at him and smiled slightly. "I am sorry about my grandmother," she said quietly, her blush returning.

John chuckled. "It's okay. What did she mean by 'coming of age?'"

"We are not allowed to bond to another until we are eighteen seasons old. I am close to that day."

John nodded slightly. "I see." He glanced back for a second at Teyla, who followed close behind, before looking back to Nasse. "Have someone in mind?" He asked quietly. His smile widened slightly as her blush deepened.

"Yes. His name is Rund. We are to bond on my eighteenth season day, although my grandmother believes he is not right for me. I disagree: I have known Rund since we were both children, and he will make a fine husband." Her smile faded slightly. "If we are spared from the fate of the Offering."

John cocked his head slightly and deepened the intensity of his expression as his smile faded. "What do you think of the Offerings, Nasse?" His brow wrinkled as she looked away, a moment of uncertainty fleeting across her face.

"They protect my people and allow those chosen to join the ancestors," she answered quietly. "It is a gift to be taken in an Offering."

John reached out and swiped a long, seed-heavy blade of grass. He stripped the end, stuck it in his mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully. Her answer sounded rehearsed and, unlike her father, she didn't seem fully committed to the "good" of the Offerings. "What if you could live without the Offerings? If whether or not you gave yourselves to the Wraith made no difference in the survival of your people?" He looked sideways at her. "What would you think then?"

His eyes flicked to Teyla, her warning look catching his attention, but he shrugged it off. Non-interference be damned, this was a seventeen-year-old girl who deserved a full happy life, not the uncertainty of whether or not she'd live another day with her husband or, eventually, children. He had the deepest respect for Elizabeth and the choices she had made as expedition leader, but that warred with his own moral core that saw a situation he couldn't turn away from.

Nasse's silence recaptured his attention. He cocked his head at her uncertain expression, as she chewed briefly on her lower lip, nervousness clear on her face. "You know," John looked up at the fluffy clouds in the sky, "you can trust us with anything you say."

"Colonel…," Teyla muttered, her voice uncertain.

John flashed her a determined look, before softening his expression and looking back at Nasse. He smiled reassuringly as she glanced up at him.

"Rund and I," she said quietly, her voice full of hesitation, "we… we want to spend our lives together." Her eyes widened in panic. "But we both understand and accept that the Offerings save our people." She stared at him, apparently fearful she'd made some sort of blasphemous statement.

John clenched his jaw so hard, he thought he'd bust a tooth, before pulling in a noisy breath through his nose and turning his head away. He squeezed his eyes closed for a second, and it took everything he had not to take her by the shoulders and insist to her how wrong she was.

"I have offended you," Nasse said quietly, misinterpreting his frustration and anger.

John sighed deeply and shook his head. "No, Nasse. You haven't done anything wrong." He barely knew the girl but it didn't matter. Not now. She was innocent and young, and even if he couldn't stand there and shatter all of her beliefs, he felt an overwhelming compulsion to do something… anything to help her; and maybe help himself in the process. He lightly grabbed her upper arm and stopped, gently turning her to face him. "Listen to me," he insisted, his voice low but intense. "There is nothing wrong with you wanting to spend your life with Rund. Nothing. Don't ever let anyone tell you different."

Nasse swallowed hard and nodded shakily, her face uncertain. She pulled against his grip, and he let her go without another word.

Teyla walked up next to him as Nasse continued across the grasslands. "You are not making this easy for her, John," she ventured quietly.

"She has a right to love and want to be with her family, Teyla," John insisted quietly. "I'm not going to stand by and let her think that's wrong."

"He did the right thing," Ronon added as he walked by them.

Rodney followed Ronon and grunted quietly, "Don't look at me. I'm the first person to support anything that dispels ridiculous religious beliefs." Behind him, Myers said nothing, not even making eye contact with John.

Teyla bowed her head for a moment. "You are, as the Earth saying goes, 'toeing a very thin line' between following Elizabeth's orders… and disobeying them."

John felt a pang of guilt, but it was immediately smothered by determination. "Yes… I am," he admitted bluntly. His mouth twisted into a deeper grimace as Teyla sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, Teyla, but this is something I can't let go of."

She nodded quietly and started through the grasslands, leaving him standing alone. He watched her for a moment, before he swallowed and took the six, following silently behind his team.

-------------------------------------

"There." Nasse pointed to a large grouping of scattered ruins that became visible on the horizon. "That is the Grounds of our Fathers."

John passed his team and walked next to Nasse. He glanced back at Rodney as the doctor pulled his Life Signs Detector from his vest. "McKay?"

"Scanning," Rodney responded absently. "I'm picking up a faint energy reading coming from the far side of the site." Rodney punched a couple keys. "Not sure what it is, but whatever it is, it's emitting energy… huh, that's strange."

John stopped and turned to face Rodney. "Strange?"

Rodney's face scrunched in confusion. "It's…shielded? Cloaked? That can't be right…." He punched a couple keys on the LSD.

"Why not?" Teyla asked.

Rodney's shoulders sagged. "Well, if it was cloaked, then how would I detect it?"

Teyla arched an eyebrow at him but said nothing.

"Rodney, where?" John prompted.

"Go straight for about fifty yards then left," Rodney responded.

"Nasse," Teyla said, "you do not have to accompany us if you do not wish to. I am sure we could find our way back."

"I wish to come with you," Nasse replied. "If that is all right?"

John nodded. "Sure, but walk behind me, okay?" His grip tightened on his P-90, but he kept the weapon lowered as he led his team into the ruins.

"This is very similar to Ancient design but there are differences," Myers commented absently. "There must've been a very close relationship between the ancient Olotians and the Lanteans." She smiled at the Olotian girl. "You have a heritage to be proud of, Nasse."

"Left," Rodney directed. "That should be it."

John turned left and was met with nothing. He looked back at Rodney. "McKay?"

"It **is** cloaked," Rodney's eyes widened. "There's only one thing that could power a cloak for thousands of years…."

"A ZPM," John answered. He looked around. "Rodney, find a way to get past that cloak."

"No, really? I thought we'd stand here and stare at nothing," Rodney snapped as he squinted at his LSD. "Just have to find the frequency… that's it." He punched another key and looked up.

John blinked as the empty air before him shimmered and a large building suddenly appeared. Behind him, Nasse gasped.

Scattered debris blocked the entrance but, despite wear and age, the building looked remarkably intact. John stepped forward and stopped in front of one of the larger pieces of rubble. He pushed on it experimentally. "Ronon, give me a hand here." He pushed again, and this time the block moved as Ronon added his strength. With the entrance partly cleared, John was able to reach out and lay his hand on the weather-worn but solid door. "McKay? Front and center." He stepped back as Rodney came up next to him.

"Right," Rodney looked around. "There has to be some sort of control panel here…." He poked around on the wall. "Ah ha." He vigorously wiped sediment from a small rectangular panel and grabbed his knife.

"Don't cut your finger off," John teased.

"Funny," Rodney snapped back, as he gently pushed the blade into the seam separating the face of the panel from the wall.

"Funny, hell," John countered. "I've seen you with weapons."

Rodney glared at him for a moment, before he gently pried the panel cover off and returned his knife to its sheath. "There. No damage, Colonel Doom and Gloom." Blowing hard on what resembled control crystals, Rodney waved his hand in front of his face as dust billowed. He squinted at the controls. "Similar," he muttered, "but there are some differences. This may take me a minute."

John nodded and stepped back. He looked around, his gaze fixing on Dr. Myers who was a short distance away examining the ruins. "Doctor," he called, "don't wander too far off."

She looked up for a moment and waved at him before returning her attention to the ruins before her.

John caught Ronon's gaze and nodded his head in the direction of the preoccupied archeologist.

Ronon's expression turned slightly annoyed, but nevertheless he walked towards the scientist. After a minute, he returned, Dr. Myers close behind him.

"Sorry." Myers flushed slightly. "There's a lot here. I got distracted."

John's smile was small. "It's okay. Just stay close, Doc."

"Think I got it here," Rodney's voice interrupted.

John looked back at Rodney, and then the door as it shuddered and moaned, before opening slightly. He arched a brow at Rodney. "McKay?"

"Just hang on a second." Rodney tapped a couple keys on his data pad, and abruptly the door opened to the halfway mark.

John reached up, flipped on the light on his P-90 and scanned what he could of the entrance. "Okay," he stepped forward, "let's have a look." As he walked into the dark room, He instantly knew it was big. He could feel a large space above him, even though he couldn't see the ceiling. He panned his light around the room as he slowly walked further into the building, Nasse close behind him.

"My ancestors built this?" she whispered, her voice filled with wonder.

John nodded and looked around. "Yep. They were pretty amazing people." He looked in the direction of Rodney. "McKay, why do you think this was cloaked?"

"Probably to keep it out of the hands of the Wraith, which is a good thing," Rodney responded, his voice echoing slightly in the large room. "If they thought it vital enough to hide it from the Wraith with a cloak, then there must be something pretty damn important in here."

"Like a ZPM," John added.

"Among other things, yes," Rodney agreed.

"Why were we able to detect it?" John panned his light around, trying to find anything but endless dark.

"The LSD," Rodney answered immediately. "It's an Ancient scanning device. Cloaking something does no good if you can't find it later. We've run into this before. The Wraith can't detect it, but Ancient devices can. That way the right people can find places like this."

"Colonel? Dr. McKay."

John turned, following the sound of Teyla's voice, who had her light zeroed in on a control panel.

"Now we're getting somewhere." Rodney quickly crossed the room and walked up to the panel. He tapped a control crystal and frowned as the device remained dark. "Huh. We know there's power here…," his voice trailed off as he knelt and scooted under the panel. "A little light please?" His muffled voice sounded annoyed.

Teyla knelt and shone her light over his shoulder.

John walked up behind them. "Can you fix it?"

"Of course," Rodney immediately shot back. True to his word, a dim glow suddenly lit up the panel, casting an eerie orange light around it.

"More over here," Ronon's voice echoed from the other side of the room.

John turned and directed his light at Ronon and Dr. Myers. "Hang on a second." He looked back as Rodney emerged from under the console, stood and again tapped a crystal. This time the console hummed slightly before a holographic schematic came up.

"Huh," Rodney squinted at the diagram for a moment before tapping another crystal.

John scrunched his eyes shut and grunted as abruptly the lights came on. He shielded his eyes for a moment before cautiously opening them to the brightness.

"Sorry, no warning," Rodney blinked hard.

"No kidding!" John groused. He flipped the light off on his P-90 and looked around. The high ceiling was covered with intricate artwork, with almost a DaVinci quality about it, and several consoles lined the outer walls, leaving a large uncluttered space in the middle. His gaze narrowed at the prominent, stenciled symbol that graced the floor, with several other smaller ones ringing it. "Isn't that…?"

"Olot's chevron," Rodney finished, "ringed by several other chevrons including," he pointed, "that one. Interesting."

John's eyes focused on the chevron Rodney indicated and nodded. With Nasse there, they wouldn't dare mention it, but the chevron in question was Atlantis' point of origin.

"We've suspected that the gate chevrons meant more in the Ancient culture than just coordinates in space to identify planets," Dr. Myers knelt and ran her hand over part of the Olot symbol. "This is solid evidence to prove that, but we still don't know exactly what else they meant." Her voice was slightly frustrated. She looked around. "Maybe we'll find a clue here." She shook her head apparently in amazement. "The more we look, the more connections to the Ancients we find."

"Hello…." Rodney's voice captured their attention.

John looked back at him. "What?"

"Interesting. I found an odd subroutine." Rodney scrutinized the schematic display again, before tapping another crystal on the console.

John's reflexes reacted before he could think, and he found himself pointing his P-90 at a man who appeared in the center of the room. He wasn't alone as he heard Ronon's weapon power up from close by.

"It's a hologram," Rodney whispered.

John slowly lowered his gun and studied the holographic image. It was of an older man, his short hair and close-trimmed beard both white with age; even as a hologram, his eyes held wisdom as he stared patiently forward. "What does it do?" John wondered aloud.

Abruptly, the hologram began speaking, fast, musical words flowing from its mouth.

John squinted. "Isn't that Ancient?" He glanced at Rodney, who nodded.

"Yes… well close. I think the dialect is a little different."

"Can you understand him?" John's gaze returned to the hologram, which continued speaking.

"Here and there. Something about… welcome?" Rodney grabbed his data pad and quickly interfaced it with the console. "I have a translation program. Never leave home without it," he quipped. "I think the dialect is close enough it should work. Stand by."

Abruptly, the hologram shimmered, before it continued speaking. "… designed to interact for the purpose of relaying information stored in this database."

"Wait." John commanded and the hologram fell silent. He was slightly disturbed as it turned and stared right at him. "Okay," he muttered, "that's just weird."

"This room's probably laced with sensors it's tapping into," Rodney commented quietly.

"Whatever." John looked directly at the hologram. "Start over. What are you?"

"I was created by the Olotians Nekbar and Moloran as a real-time interface designed to interact with the user for the purpose of relaying information stored in this database."

"Why?" Teyla asked.

The hologram turned and stared at her. "It was the hope of Nekbar and Moloran that one day their descendents would return here and seek to learn all they may have forgotten. It was believed that this interface would assist in that endeavor."

"Of course." Rodney snapped his fingers. "Nekbar and Moloran probably believed that whenever the Olotians returned, they might not have the knowledge to effectively use the database, so they created this hologram to help."

The hologram turned to Rodney. "That is correct."

"What happened to the Olotians?" John asked.

The hologram again faced him. "Only the knowledge of Nekbar and Moloran can be relayed. Anything further is beyond the scope of this interface."

"Yeah, yeah," John waved his hand. "Tell us what you know."

"Authentication is required," the hologram replied. "State your origin for verification."

Confused, John looked at Rodney. "What's that about?"

"Proper identification is required," the hologram answered. "Failure to do so will result in destruction of this database and all information contained within."

"Whoa!" John spun back to face the hologram. "We're the good guys here!"

"It's a safeguard," Rodney answered, his voice slightly panicked. "Probably designed to make sure the knowledge here didn't fall into the wrong hands… like the Wraith, for example."

"Can you override it?" John stared hard at the hologram, fighting the alarm within him. Knowledge, and probably a ZPM, at their fingertips and it was slipping away…. He glanced at Rodney, whose eyes were scanning over the console.

"No, not without hours of study, and somehow I don't think we have that long."

"State your origin," the hologram repeated. This time its voice was more demanding.

"Aw, crap. We're damned if we don't try," John muttered. He sighed, straightened and stared evenly at the hologram. "Here goes nothing. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard…," he paused, stopping himself from naming Atlantis, "Earth."

A green beam unexpectedly shot down from the ceiling and passed quickly over him.

"Sheppard!" Ronon shouted, instantly pulling his gun.

"Wait!" John raised his hand as the beam passed his waist and disappeared into the floor. "I'm okay."

"Genetic marker confirmed." the hologram replied. "Welcome Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard of Atlantis."

John winced as he glanced at Nasse and her confused look.

"The Ancestral City is a myth," she muttered.

John glared at the hologram. Had it been human, maybe it would've picked up on his silent warning, but the hologram had no such discretion. "Earth," he repeated abruptly, "I was born on Earth."

"Earth is not recognized. You carry the genetic marker of the Lanteans, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard of Atlantis. There is no mistake."

John closed his eyes for a moment, before exchanging worried looks with Rodney, who sighed loudly.

"Great…."

"McKay!" John cut him off. "Less is better." He shot Rodney a warning look.

"Right." Rodney's shoulders sagged in irritation as the hologram turned and faced Ronon. "Oh wonderful, we all have to be verified?"

"Easy big guy," John cautioned Ronon. "Just be honest."

Ronon stared at John for a moment, before hesitantly holstering his gun. "Specialist Ronon Dex; Sateda."

"Sateda is not recognized," the hologram replied. Abruptly the green beam passed over Ronon; his hand tightened on the grip of his gun, but he held still. "Genetic marker confirmed. Welcome Specialist Ronon Dex of Malseta."

"Malseta?" Rodney questioned.

Ronon nodded. "There were ruins on the southern continent of Sateda named Malseta."

John nodded at Nesse as she stared uncertainly at the hologram. "It's okay, just tell it who you are. It won't hurt."

Nasse bit her lip in nervousness and looked back at the hologram. "Nasse of Olot." She jumped slightly as the scanner passed over her.

The hologram placed its hand over what would be its heart and duplicated the Olotian greeting, before bowing its head to her. "Genetic marker confirmed. Welcome, Nasse of Olot, to the place of your ancestors."

John looked at Myers as the hologram turned to her. She nodded and looked directly at it. "Doctor Rachelle Myers. Earth."

"Earth is not recognized," the hologram repeated. The green scanner passed over Myers. "Genetic marker confirmed. Welcome Doctor Rachelle Myers of Terra."

"Terra." Rodney nodded in comprehension, "as in Terra Atlantus: the Ancient Outpost in Antarctica. It's an old name sometimes used to describe Earth."

"Wait," John turned and faced the hologram. "I'm from Earth… Terra, as well. I have to carry that genetic marker."

The hologram blinked at him. "Yes. That marker was detected. However, the marker of an ally takes precedence, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard of Atlantis."

John winced again. "Okay, let's get something straight here. It's just Sheppard, not Sheppard of…"

"Atlantis," the hologram supplied.

John grimaced. "Yes! Not that!"

This is amazing," Rodney interjected, changing the topic. "The Ancients implanted genetic markers in all the humans of both galaxies?"

"Fascinating," Myers breathed. "Anomalous base pairs have been identified in the human genome, but they were always written off as random mutations or relics of evolution. I wonder…." Her voice trailed off.

John watched as Teyla's identification was confirmed, before the hologram turned to Rodney.

"Doctor Rodney McKay. Earth. That is, Terra." Rodney stared evenly at the hologram as the scanner passed over him.

"Priority genetic marker is abnormal, but confirmed," the hologram replied. "Welcome Dr. Rodney McKay of Atlantis."

"It's just Dr. McKay," Rodney muttered.

"Abnormal?" John smiled in mild amusement. He ignored Rodney's cold stare and turned back to the hologram. "Well, now that's over, tell us what happened to the Olotians."

"What events do you wish me to discuss?" The hologram faced John again.

"Give me a summary of everything you know." John answered.

"The Olotians were a society of technologically advanced people who enjoyed a close alliance with Lantea and several other worlds for thousands of years. They excelled in scientific endeavors, along with spiritual growth, with hopes of reaching the next plane of existence."

"Ascension." Rodney breathed. "The Olotians really were studying ascension."

"At the time this interface was created," the hologram continued, undeterred, "the Olotian society was suffering from a pandemic caused by a Namtar virus that was recognized too late to save a vast proportion of the Olotian population. With the help of the Lanteans, the Olotians had repelled the Wraith several times, but with the Lanteans embroiled in a long bitter war with the Wraith, one they did not expect to win, they were unable to render assistance to the Olotians. Decimated by the Namtar virus, the Olotians believed that the Wraith queen they called Ereshkigal, whom they had warded off several times, would learn of their weakness and attack. Fearing the end of their civilization, this database was constructed as a repository of knowledge. Knowing the Wraith would come to destroy them, Nekbar and Moloran cloaked this facility to prevent its knowledge from falling into the hands of Ereshkigal or any Wraith. The last notes programmed into this interface spoke of the arrival of the queen Ereshkigal, and culling of Olot."

John looked away as the hologram fell silent. "Double whammy. No wonder their society collapsed."

"Namtar virus," Rodney added. "There's our nanovirus."

"Ereshkigal," Myers added. "Namtar was her servant. She was the Mesopotamian goddess of death and the Underworld."

"Nice." John winced. Then he frowned. "Wait, if Namtar was her servant, then did she cause the pandemic?"

"Probably not." Myers shook her head. "Remember, we're talking thousands of years of mythology and folklore from two planets; Earth and Olot. I would imagine the truth is closer to what Brantor told you than the ancient Earth mythology."

"Eresgal," Nasse's voice shook. "Our savior…."

John scrutinized Nasse closely, noting her pale face and clearly shaken expression.

"They're probably the same." Myers sighed and threw a quick sympathetic look at Nasse. "Ereshkigal is hard to pronounce. In ten thousand years of storytelling, Eresgal seems to be a natural derivative."

John nodded absently at Myers as he continued staring at the Olotian girl. "Nasse?" He began to move towards her, and then his eyes widened and he lunged. He barely caught her as her knees buckled and she collapsed. He held her tightly, her head resting in the crook of his arm, and slowly lowered her to the ground, while the others rushed over. Abruptly, the green scanner appeared again and passed quickly over her body.

"She is in distress," the hologram commented evenly.

"Yeah, no kidding," John snapped as he pressed his fingers into her throat, finding her pulse, which was fast but even. He grabbed her hand and rubbed her knuckles vigorously. "Nasse?"

"Poor thing," Myers whispered. "To have her beliefs shaken so much, so quickly…." Her voice trailed off.

"This is indeed a problem," Teyla added as she rubbed Nasse's other hand.

"One crisis at a time," John muttered. He rubbed the girl's knuckles again. "Nasse?"

A quiet moan escaped Nasse and her eyelids fluttered, before slowly parting.

John's grip on her hand softened but lingered as he smiled down at her. "Hey. You okay?"

Nasse looked around in confusion. "What...?" her voice trailed off. She pulled her hand from John's and started to sit up, only to stop and take in a stuttering breath as her eyes slid shut.

"Whoa, easy," John put a hand behind her head, protecting it in case she fainted again. "Just take a minute, okay?" He felt her head nod against his hand. He looked up at Teyla and guessed that she had also noted the tears that escaped Nasse's closed eyes.

"What has happened?" the girl whispered.

John's lips pressed into a thin line as he searched for some answer that would mean something and maybe make her feel better. He quickly realized there were no words to comfort someone who just had her entire belief system shattered. "I'm sorry, Nasse," he said quietly. A loud gasp from Teyla grabbed his attention. John's head shot up and he stared hard at her tense expression. "What is it?"

Ronon knelt behind Teyla as she opened her eyes. "Wraith," she said quietly. "There are Wraith close by."

John sucked in a loud breath. "Damn it." He twisted and stared at Rodney, who was still fiddling with the console, while Ronon jumped to his feet and ran to the door. "McKay, get that cloak back up, now."

"What?" Rodney stared at him in confusion, apparently not knowing what was happening.

"Wraith. Cloak. Now," John repeated, his words choppy.

A look of panic flashed over Rodney's face. "Oh no.…"

Still holding Nasse, John turned his attention to the silent hologram. "Can you cloak this building?" he demanded.

The hologram stared directly at him. "That function is beyond the scope of this interface."

Adrenaline buzzed through John and he thought quickly. _It's a teacher...._ He pointed at Rodney. "Can you instruct him on how to do it?"

"Hold on, I don't need instruction...," Rodney started indignantly.

John glared at him. "Stow the ego, McKay." His head whipped back to the hologram. "Can you?"

"Yes." The hologram looked up and abruptly a large, complex schematic display appeared.

Rodney stared at it for a moment. "Okay, wait.... I think I see...." He knelt under the console again.

"Colonel?"

Dr. Myers' shaky voice captured John's attention. He glanced at her and gave her the best reassuring look he could muster, which wasn't much considering the situation. This was bad enough for them, but for her, a civilian who'd never been off world or faced the dangers of Pegasus before, it was something else. For a moment, he was impressed she was as calm as she was. "It's okay, Doc," he said quietly. Inwardly, he cussed. He had no doubt his team could take care of themselves, but now he had Myers and Nasse to think about. _Crap...._ John's gaze refocused on the entrance. "Ronon. Anything?"

Ronon's shake of the head was barely noticeable. "Not yet."

"I must go." Nasse sat up and slowly pulled her legs under herself.

John grabbed her arm, holding her in a low squat as he stared intently in her eyes. "No. It's not safe out there. You need to stay with us."

"You've got to be kidding!" Rodney stuck his head out from under the console. "Going out there is suicide!"

John glanced at Rodney. "McKay. Cloak."

Nasse pulled her arm free of John's grasp. "I must join my father." She stood and looked around. "This is...." She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "I must join my father," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. She swiftly crossed the room towards the door.

John exchanged a worried look with Teyla. Beliefs or not, he wasn't about to let Nasse stroll out into the open with Wraith around, even if that meant keeping her against her will. He looked straight at Ronon, and shook his head slightly.

Ronon nodded and stood in front of the door.

"Please," Nasse stared at Ronon, "I wish to leave."

"No." Ronon's tone was final.

"The child of Olot wishes to leave," the hologram spoke abruptly. "You must allow her."

"No way," John countered. "There's Wraith out there, it's too dangerous."

"The will of a child of Olot must be observed," the hologram answered. "Move aside."

John's gaze narrowed at the commanding tone the hologram took. He felt like he'd just been ordered to stand down, and had about as much regard for this order as he'd had for previous ones. "Not going to happen."

"Uhh, Colonel? That might not be wise.…" Rodney's voice trailed off as a beam of light shot out from the ceiling and struck the ground close to Ronon's feet, dust billowing from the impact.

Ronon flinched, but held his position. He stared daggers at the hologram as Nasse flattened herself against the wall.

"Holy crap!" Rodney jumped out from under the console, his eyes wide in shock.

For the second time that day, John found himself staring at the hologram over the top of his P-90. He took a step to his left and stood in front of a shocked Myers.

"It was never the will of the creators of this interface to harm other lives, especially those of allies, but the primary command must be observed," the hologram stated calmly.

"In other words," John's voice was cynical, "that was a warning shot."

"What is the primary command?" Teyla questioned.

"The will of all Olotians must be obeyed, above the words of others, even allies," the hologram replied.

"Great," John muttered.

"Nasse," Teyla reasoned. "You must stay with us. Please, you must trust us."

John risked a glance at the Olotian girl, who shook her head.

"I... I have seen...." Nasse pushed herself away from the wall and swallowed hard, her expression uncertain. "I do not know what to believe. I do not know you. How can I trust you?" She stared hard at John, her expression guarded. "But I trust my father." She straightened. "I wish to go."

John's brows furrowed, and he looked back at the hologram. "What happens if we say no to her leaving?"

"Any person who stands in the way of the primary command will be terminated." The hologram stared neutrally at John.

"Oh no...," Rodney's voice answered immediately. He stepped out from behind the console. "Do you realize what you're allowing her to do?" He stared accusingly at the hologram. "There are Wraith out there! Her life is in danger if she leaves here!"

The hologram stared evenly at Rodney. "The primary command must be adhered to. There are no exceptions." It looked past Rodney to Ronon. "You must allow her to leave."

Unmoving, Ronon stared coldly at it for a moment before looking to John.

John ground his teeth. "Damn it," he whispered. He'd risked his life for innocents before, and he'd willingly do it again, but this... this was suicide for him and his team. He glanced at Rodney and pointedly motioned his head at the hologram. _If anyone can disable this thing, McKay can.…_

Rodney stared blankly at him for a moment before realization dawned. His expression turned decidedly annoyed and he shook his head. "With a couple of hours of research? Maybe. Right now? Not a chance."

"The primary command must be obeyed," the hologram spoke. "This is your last chance to comply."

John looked at Nasse one last time, mustering as much sincerity as he could. "Nasse, don't do this."

She swallowed hard and shook her head. "Please, let me go."

John closed his eyes for a moment, before he looked at Ronon and nodded slightly.

Ronon's fists clenched, but he stepped aside, silently allowing the Olotian girl to leave.

John slowly lowered his gun and stared at the hologram. "Are there any other rules punishable by death we need to know about?" he asked the hologram sarcastically.

"Only the primary command holds such punishment," the hologram replied, unfazed by John's attitude.

"In a way, it makes sense," Rodney had returned to his position under the console. "This is an Olotian device. They'd want the orders of their people to carry the most weight."

"But death?" John answered. "Isn't that a little... excessive?"

"Apparently, not to the Olotians," Teyla replied.

"Sheppard." From his position at the door, Ronon tensed. "We're not alone."

"Aw hell." John took no more than two steps across the room before the hologram spoke again.

"It is a Wraith cruiser. This facility has been detected. Security protocols initiated."

John froze in his tracks and looked back at the hologram, black dread creeping into him. "Security protocols? Care to enlighten us on what, exactly, those are?"

"Security protocols dictate that under no circumstances is this facility to fall into enemy hands. Therefore, if discovered, this facility will auto destruct."

"Whoa!" John interrupted. "I though you said no more death rules!"

"This is a security protocol, not a command," the hologram replied.

"Oh my god...," Myers whispered.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Rodney interrupted. "You can't turn the damn cloak on, but you can destroy the facility?"

"We have to get out of here," Ronon insisted.

"Hold on," John waved at Ronon and turned to Rodney. "Can you disable this thing?"

"Of all the Mickey-Mouse, irrational rules..." Rodney muttered.

"McKay!" John snapped.

"No!" Rodney shot back. "Stop asking me to do things I need hours of research to even attempt. I don't think you realize the scope and complexity we're dealing with here!" Rodney ripped his LSD from his vest and swung turned in a circle.

"Out, everyone, now," John ordered. "We'll have to take our chances in the open."

"Wait!" Rodney shouted. "We might get something out of this."

"Like what?" John's reply was frustrated.

"Oh, I don't know, a ZedPM?" Rodney shot back. "If we can take that...."

"Then we can destroy enough here with C4 that the Wraith won't get anything useful," John finished. "Find it, McKay." He looked behind him. "Teyla, give me all the C4 you have, then you and Myers get over to the door with Ronon. If this goes south, you'll have to get out of here fast."

"John...," Teyla started

"Go" he interrupted firmly.

Teyla silently handed him her C4 and ran to the door, Myers by her side.

"Ah ha!" Rodney knelt and waved his hand over a circular tile in the floor. When nothing happened, he waved his hand again more vigorously. "Oh no, no you don't!" He shot an accusing glare at the silent hologram before he pulled his knife from his belt and pried the blade under the tile.

John jumped slightly as an arc of electricity struck Rodney's hand and sent him sprawling.

"Your interference will not be allowed, Dr. McKay of Atlantis." The hologram stated calmly.

"What?" Rodney's voice cracked, even though he appeared to be none the worse for wear. "No! No, no, no, no...."

"Security protocols dictate that I should warn you that self destruction is imminent. You are advised to leave immediately."

"That's it," John grabbed Rodney's sleeve and firmly pulled him to his feet. "We're out of here."

"But... the Zed PM...," Rodney started.

John broke into a run, forcibly pulling Rodney with him. "Somehow I don't think we have the time."

"There's a cruiser out there!" Rodney stumbled.

"Would you rather stay here?" John shouted. He looked ahead to the rest of his team. "Go! As soon as you're out the door, scatter and take cover in the ruins, but get the hell away from this building!"

Teyla pushed Myers out the door ahead of her and followed, with Ronon right behind as John and Rodney brought up the rear.

John shoved Rodney ahead of him and burst into the bright sunlight. The whine of the cruiser's engines reverberated through his chest as he broke into a dead run, pushing Rodney ahead of him. A moment of dark, cynical amusement passed through John as Rodney found a surprising burst of speed. _Guess he has to be properly motivated...._ John looked over his shoulder as the cruiser descended towards the facility.

Satisfied they were a safe distance from the building, John pushed Rodney behind a large piece of rubble and took cover himself. Peeking out from behind the debris, he was mildly surprised that not a single shot had been directed at any of them by the cruiser. "They didn't fire at us," he was slightly out of breath.

"No," Rodney panted, "probably more interested in that," he pointed to the building, " than us."

John stared at the building as the Wraith cruiser stationed itself right over the top of it. "If we left a defensible position and all that technology only to let it fall in the hands of the Wraith...," he started but never finished as, abruptly, the building shook and an orange beam shot straight out from the top, disintegrating the roof in the process and slicing right through the cruiser. "Down!" John shouted as he ducked behind the ruins and wrapped his arms around his head.

Even from his protected spot behind the rubble, the heat from the explosion was intense. He coughed and scrunched his eyes shut as the air around him turned as hot as a furnace and was shattered by a deafening blast. Instinctively curling into a fetal position, he tucked his head tucked to his chest while the air around him burned. As quickly as it had come, the hot air passed and coolness bathed his skin. He carefully lifted his head, shaking it and dislodging pieces of debris from his body, and poked Rodney in the arm. "Hey, you okay?"

"Is it over?" Rodney's voice was muffled by his coat sleeve.

"Yeah." John coughed again. "You all right?"

Rodney cautiously looked up, before lowering his arms and sitting up slowly. "Oh yeah," he croaked, "just peachy."

John peeked over the rubble, his eyes widening as he saw the crater where the Olotian facility used to be. His gaze traveled upwards. "Holy crap," he muttered as he failed to find the cruiser. "It's gone. The cruiser too."

"Rule one of self destruct." Rodney also coughed as he too looked over the top of the rubble. "Take your enemy with you."

John stood. "Teyla? Ronon? Myers?" he shouted, looking around. His gaze locked on Ronon first as the big Satedan emerged from behind a large chunk of debris, brushed himself off and walked towards them. John looked left and saw Myers and Teyla appearing from behind more debris. He sighed quietly as they all walked towards him. No one seemed much worse for wear, and a moment of relief passed through him although when they got closer, he saw Myers had a large gash on her forehead that was bleeding freely. "Myers? You okay?"

The archeologist wiped some blood from her brow and winced. "Hurts, but I think it looks worse than it is. Hit my head on a chunk of rubble when we dove for cover. Not one of my more graceful moves." There was a slight waver in her voice and her expression was strained, as if she was trying to be calm when inside she was terrified.

John stared at her a moment before he decided to believe her... for now. He found a small, reassuring smile. "Happens to all of us. We'll have Carson look at it as soon as we get back to Atlantis. Just sit down for a minute and rest." He glanced at his other team mates. "Everyone else okay?"

Ronon and Teyla nodded, but Rodney wasn't so quiet about it.

"Am I burned? I feel hot...."

John cocked a brow at him. "You're fine, McKay." He looked back at Teyla and tilted his head towards Myers. "Help the Doc take care of her head, but make it quick. With Wraith around, I don't like being out in the open." His grip tightened on his P-90 as he looked around uneasily. He glanced at Ronon, noticing the same disquiet in the Satedan's expression that he knew was in his. "McKay? Anything on the LSD?"

Rodney grunted. "No. Not close, anyway."

"I'd bet my best skateboard there's a hive ship in orbit," John muttered. "We need to get to the gate and get the hell out of here."

"What of the Olotians?" Teyla asked quietly.

John turned around and looked at her as she carefully bandaged Myers' head. It didn't take long before she spared a moment to meet his gaze. John's mouth pressed into a thin line. "There're only five of us, one injured. You know we can't take on a hive." He hardened his gaze slightly. "There isn't anything we can do for them now."

Teyla stared at him for a minute longer, before nodding slightly and returning her attention to Myers.

"Colonel, they're innocent...." Myers voice was still shaky.

John clenched his jaw. "I know. But there's nothing we can do. We'd never survive a firefight right now; we don't have the manpower or the ordinance. With Atlantis' existence a secret, the last thing we need is for any of us to get captured by the Wraith. We need to get out of here."

Teyla sat back as she finished the bandage and John reached down, holding his hand out to Myers. "Here," he said quietly.

Myers looked up at him and nodded, wincing slightly as she jarred her head. She took his hand and John slowly pulled her to her feet. His grip lingered as he made sure she was stable. "I'm sorry, Doc," he said quietly, but with a note of finality to it.

Myers sighed. "I understand."

John let go and turned away from the ruins. "Ronon, take point, I've got the six. Head for the gate and let's move it, but, Doc, say something if you need us to slow down."

"Oh, fine! She's allowed to ask you not to set an insane pace, but I'm a whiner for doing the same?" Rodney interjected.

John glared at Rodney, his temper shortened by the danger of the situation they found themselves in. "She's injured, you're not. Now move."

"I'll be okay, Colonel," Myers responded as she took a place behind Ronon.

John briefly glanced at Teyla and silently jerked his head towards Myers.

Teyla nodded in understanding and followed close behind the archeologist.

Ronon set a brisk pace, but John knew it wasn't nearly as fast as the ex-runner was capable of. He smiled slightly: Rodney had decided to trade snarky comments for just breathing hard as he jogged along in front of John, and he was relishing the silence.

"I've been thinking about this 'Offering'," Myers said after a few minutes. "I think the mythology has taken on an embellished form since the pact was made. Somehow, I don't think it was as cordial as it's made out to be."

John arched a brow but kept pace behind McKay. "Doctor?"

Myers sighed. "It sounds like the Olotians, like the Lanteans, fought the Wraith for many years. They were technically and spiritually advanced. Do you think they'd accept that the 'Offerings' or sacrifices would lead to spiritual enlightenment and ascension? I doubt the Olotians would've accepted the pact willingly. My guess is the Wraith destroyed the nanovirus and the mythology came later; stories embellished over the decades and centuries, probably helped along by this Ereshkigal herself."

"A willing food source is much easier to handle than unwilling one," Ronon pointed out, cynicism coloring his tone.

"Makes sense," Rodney added. "Culled severely enough over the decades, there probably was very little, if any, of the Olotian society left after a few generations."

"But enough of it to help form the mythology," Myers pointed out. "Their ancestors studied ascension. Now they believe if they are taken in an Offering, they ascend. That has to be a remnant of their society."

"So the Wraith cowed them, and then turned them into willing servants?" John shook his head, his anger rising. His thoughts lingered again on the deception the Olotians were living under, a deception Elizabeth had ordered him to ignore… to let go… just pretend wasn't there. His gaze narrowed as he watched Myers stumble hard, only kept on her feet with the assistance of a quick hand from Teyla. "Ronon," he hailed. "Hold up." He stepped around Rodney and squinted at Myers' pale face. "Doc?" he asked quietly.

Myers took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a minute. "Just have a headache, Colonel."

John scrutinized her appearance a moment longer, giving in to the suspicion within him that it was more than just a headache. He knew a concussion when he saw one, and this was at least that. "Okay, but let Teyla give you a hand. We gotta keep moving, but you say something if you need to stop and take a rest." He put a hand on her shoulder and cocked his head, making eye contact with her. "I mean it."

Myers nodded. "I will."

John glanced pointedly at Ronon, who nodded in recognition before setting off again, his pace slower.

At Myers' request, they made three brief stops before finally reaching the Stargate. By that point, Teyla had one of the archeologist's arms draped over her shoulder, and Myers was so white John was sure she'd glow in the dark. He motioned at Rodney. "Dial."

Rodney glanced briefly at Myers and nodded once, before heading to the DHD.

John smiled at Myers as he pulled out his GDO. "Home free, Doc."

"So ends my first, less-than-glamorous trip off world," Myers quipped weakly.

John's smile widened and he chucked quietly as he watched the chevrons lock, but his amusement only lasted a minute as the last chevron failed to engage and the gate went dark. He looked at Rodney, whose expression fell.

"Not again…." He knelt and pulled the access panel off the DHD.

"I thought you had this thing fixed!" John's shoulders sagged as he glared at Rodney.

"I did!" Rodney's voice cracked slightly. "The Wraith must've discovered it and disabled the program again."

"Was not the DHD updated?" Teyla asked. "Even with the program once again disabled, should it not still be able to dial Atlantis?"

"Should've," Rodney answered, "unless they reset the stellar drift calculations to protect their little fun-loving society. Fortunately, I have the Atlantis coordinate updates on my data pad just in case this happened." Rodney's voice was smug. "Just give me a few minutes… oh no…."

"Oh no, what?" John questioned as he walked towards Rodney. "McKay? Oh no, what?"

"There's something wrong here…," Rodney muttered as he continued tinkering with the DHD. He scooted back and grabbed his data pad. "Damn it," he muttered.

"McKay!" Ronon growled, beating John to the reply.

Rodney looked up. "There's some sort of security program installed to protect the system from being tampered with. I'm locked out."

"Guess the Wraith didn't like us messing with their little arrangement," John muttered. "Can you get past it?"

"Of course," Rodney answered immediately. "Well… I think so, yes. But, it's going to take time." He squinted at the display again. "There's also some sort of dampening field around the gate. It'll block any radio transmissions. Oh yeah," he sighed, "the Wraith definitely know someone besides the Olotians is on this planet."

"So, even if Elizabeth dials in, she won't be able to contact us?" John suspected he knew the answer, but asked anyway.

"Nope. The field will block all radio transmissions," Rodney confirmed. "And with the stellar drift program disabled again, the DHD won't update."

John sighed and looked around the open grasslands. He felt unnerved by how exposed they were, especially with Wraith in the area and certainly still in orbit. His mind raced for a moment, before he nodded to himself, the decision made. "Okay. It's too exposed here during the day. We'll have to wait until cover of darkness to fix the DHD. If there's a hive in orbit, then you can bet we'll eventually see darts patrolling the gate, especially after destroying that cruiser. Let's make for the Olotian village and hide out there until night. Besides," he gazed at Myers, "Doc, you look like you could use a rest. If we can't take cover in the village, then we'll make for the woods close by and hide out there until it gets dark." He checked the load on his P-90. "I'm on point. Let's go."

He led his team down the familiar path toward the Olotian village, all the while resisting the urge to grind his teeth in frustration. _How the hell did we end up in this mess?_ He glared straight forward, his grip tight on his P-90 and his gaze alert. He may not have Teyla's gene but every fiber of his being told him the Wraith were still here… and close. The bright sunlight did nothing to comfort him; he felt painfully visible in the flat grasslands. He could see anything coming at them from a long ways away, but that didn't comfort him much and didn't make up for the disquieting thought that anything else could see them just as easily.

"Colonel!"

John whipped around, Teyla's urgent hail stopping him in his tracks. His eyes widened as he watched Myers collapse. Catching her, Teyla sat down hard but never let go.

"Aw, hell." John swore as he quickly knelt next to the scientist. "Myers?" He grabbed her wrist and sighed loudly.

"Oh, that's just great," Rodney groused. "Is she okay?"

"She is apparently more injured then we realized," Teyla commented quietly.

John nodded. "Yeah. Pulse is steady. Little fast, but steady. She's got grit, I'll give her that." A glimmer of respect flashed through him. "Next time a spot for a scientist on an off-world team comes up, she's at the top of my list."

"If we survive long enough to get back to Atlantis," Rodney grumbled.

"McKay, I know COs that get downright testy at talk like that during a mission," John shot back. He let go of Myers' wrist and looked around. "We really can't stay here…."

"I got her," Ronon crouched next to Teyla and relieved her of Myers. Slowly, he gathered the archeologist in his arms and stood.

John eyed him dubiously. "You sure you can do this, big guy?"

Ronon's expression could've been amused or irritated, John couldn't tell which, and the ex-runner's reply didn't help.

"I'm good."

John arched a brow. "Okay." He looked past Ronon. "Teyla, take the six. Let's move." He continued down the trail, his pace quick.

"This is really going from bad to worse," Rodney commented as he followed behind John.

"We're still alive," John replied absently, scanning the horizon ahead.

"Someone trapped in a Wraith cocoon is still alive, so forgive me if I find your comments less than reassuring," Rodney snapped.

John ignored Rodney's words as the Olotian village came into view. Leaving the path, he led his team across the grasslands towards the south side of the village and closer to the tree line of the nearby forest.

"Uhh… what are we doing?" Rodney questioned.

"Taking the back way in," John answered. "Just in case."

"Just in case what?" Rodney pressed.

John risked a glance back at the scientist. "Wraith." His gaze passed Rodney as he caught a glimpse of Teyla tensing.

"You were correct to be cautious, Colonel." Teyla's voice was strained. "There are Wraith in the village."

"Didn't I just say something about bad to worse?" Rodney muttered.

John crouched, waving at the rest of them to do the same. "Well, then, it's a jinx, so knock it off." He scrutinized the village for a long moment. Seeing no sign of movement in their vicinity, he looked back at his team. "Time for plan B. Head for the trees. Move out." He pushed himself to his feet and set a jogging pace as he lead his people to the tree line, all the while fighting an itch in the center of his back where he was sure he was going to get hit by a Wraith stunner. But the blast never came, and the itch faded as he crossed into the thick underbrush.

Passing a few hundred yards into the trees, he found himself standing in a small grove. P-90 ready, he slowly turned in a circle, scanning the perimeter around them, before looking back at Ronon. "Clear."

Ronon nodded once, and gently laid Myers against one of the trees. John began to turn away, but Ronon's voice stopped him. "Sheppard. She's waking up."

John headed towards him, but paused next to Teyla, who was also standing guard. "Wraith can't sense you, can they?"

Teyla shook her head. "No. I have shut out that part of my mind to avoid detection. But, unfortunately, that means I cannot sense them either."

"Great." John sighed quietly. "Guess we'll have to watch for them the old-fashioned way. Keep a sharp eye out." He smiled slightly as Teyla nodded once. He glanced at Rodney whose gaze was fixed on his LSD, and his free hand gripping his holstered nine mil. John left him be, suspecting that if he startled him right now, he'd get a bullet in the chest for his efforts. He walked up to where Myers lay and knelt opposite Ronon, who stood.

"Going to keep watch," Ronon said and walked away.

John rested an arm on his bent knee and looked down at the scientist. "How you feeling Myers?"

"Dizzy." Myers' shaky voice was quiet. "What happened?"

John let one side of his mouth turn up slightly. "You took a little nap."

The archeologist's eyes slid shut. "Oh no…."

"Hey," John interrupted, "its okay. You took a pretty hard crack on the head." He waited until she opened her eyes again before smiling. "Just try and relax and rest a little okay?" He slowly stood as Myers nodded silently and closed her eyes. He waved once, beckoning his team to him.

As they gathered around, John looked at Teyla. "Stay here with McKay and Myers. Without radios, our best bet is to get that locking program and the dampening field disabled, and dial back to Atlantis on our own." He looked up through the trees before his gaze dropped to the long shadows they cast on the ground. "Looks like sunset isn't too far away. We'll move for the gate when Ronon and I get back." He nodded his head at the injured scientist. "Keep an eye on Myers too. She needs some rest, but it's probably best that she stays conscious."

"Where are you going?" Rodney demanded.

John tensed slightly. "Ronon and I are going to do a little recon in the village."

"Are you insane? Why?" Rodney hissed.

"McKay, we've already been in contact with the Olotians. We didn't tell them much, but if they've told the Wraith anything at all about us, we need to know." He sighed. "There aren't that many people in this galaxy that have the ability to diagnose and fix DHDs the way you do. Don't you think the Wraith know that, and would be very curious as to who, exactly, was here?"

"Good point," Rodney muttered. "But why not wait until night?"

"Because," John's patience wore thin, "you might need all that time to get the DHD fixed…."

"Now, wait a minute," Rodney started to object.

"And," John cut in forcefully, "if the Wraith are there now, we're missing potentially valuable intel while we wait." He raised his hand, cutting off Rodney's objection. "We're going. That's the end of it. Maintain radio silence unless you get two clicks from me. We won't be long." John turned away with Ronon, only to be stopped by Teyla's voice.

"Be careful, both of you," she said quietly.

He flashed her a quick smile. "We will."

--------------------------------------------------


	2. Book I Ch 2

It was just like Afghanistan.

Okay, John admitted to himself, it wasn't an insanely hot – or cold – dustbowl, but this still felt familiar. Crouched low, he silently eased through the tall grass, Ronon right beside him. Just as he'd done when he'd been shot down in Afghanistan, he extended his senses outward as his eyes darted back and forth, looking… feeling for an ambush. Sure, it was Wraith he was looking for, this time, and not Taliban rebels, but a trap is a trap regardless of who springs it. His gaze caught on something and his adrenaline spiked as he lifted a silent fist in Ronon's direction, only to find the ex-runner had already frozen, his eyes focused on the same thing. They both slunk deeper into the grass as a Wraith guard rounded one of the Olotian huts and stopped, slowly looking around.

John watched the Wraith with a cold, ruthless, detachment –a frame of mind he was all too familiar with. He was sometimes scared at how easily he could turn it on, a fear only tempered by how easily he could turn it off again. Right now, staring at a Wraith, far from the gate and in danger, his callous detachment didn't bother him for a moment… not when he needed it to protect himself and, more importantly, his people.

Slowly, he lifted his P-90 and sighted down the end of the gun on to the center of the Wraith's skull. His eyes narrowed slightly as he searched for any sign of alarm from the Wraith or indication that they were discovered. Both he and Ronon had their weapons aimed directly at the Wraith, and John knew without a doubt they could kill him easily, but that wasn't his concern. Discovery could spell disaster for his team, especially with one injured and the DHD disabled.

Tense minutes passed while neither he nor Ronon moved, until the Wraith turned and marched back into the village. John drew in a careful, deep breath and lowered his gun. He looked sideways at Ronon and motioned his head towards the village. Slowly, he stood up as far as a crouch and resumed his trek towards the settlement, Ronon right behind him.

Their pace was slow and cautious, but still it took them very little time to reach the village. John caught a glimpse of a large group of Olotians in the center of the settlement and he could hear muffled voices. The sinking sun worked to their advantage as they moved through the long shadows cast by the Olotian huts towards the gathering and took a spot behind a low cart full of Pacta wool. John sat with his back against the cart for a moment, before rolling to his left and peeking around it. He heard Ronon shuffle quietly beside him as the Satedan rolled the opposite way and watched from the other side of the cart.

Intermixed with the Olotians were, as near as John could tell, about a half dozen Wraith guards and the same number of males. He clenched his jaw as he pressed himself tighter against the cart. It wasn't that uncommon to see six guards at once, but he couldn't remember ever seeing that many males in one place. _Has to be a hive…_ . A familiar whining sound caught his attention and he instinctively crouched lower as a Dart appeared on the horizon and swung low towards the village. His brow furrowed in confusion. They couldn't be culling: there'd be more than one Dart, and no reason for all those Wraith on the ground.

The Dart continued its decent, skimming low over a couple huts before the transport beam activated. As quickly as it appeared, the beam disengaged, leaving another Wraith in its wake.

John's eyes widened in shock and he tensed as he took in the long black hair and distinct form of a Wraith queen. He licked his lips and eased back behind the cart to look at Ronon, if only to reassure himself that the big man wasn't going to charge her on the spot. Ronon was motionless, so John returned his attention to the queen as she slowly walked into the group of Olotians.

He could feel the mood change as the queen approached the humans. Muttered exclamations rippled through the group and many looked upon her with open surprise. John's gaze narrowed as one Olotian stepped forward, and his gut knotted as he recognized the unmistakable form of Brantor. _Damn it…._

Brantor stood before the queen for a moment, before he dropped to his knees, his hands crossed over his chest and his head bowed. "Savior," his voice was loud and filled with happiness. "You have not been seen in a generation. Your presence graces us."

_Savior…?_ John's mind latched onto the word as something Nasse said came back to him.

"_Eresgal," Nasse whispered. "Our savior…."_

"_They're probably the same," Myers sighed. "Ereshkigal is hard to pronounce. In ten thousand years of storytelling, Eresgal seems to be a natural derivative."_

John's gaze flicked back to the Wraith queen as he made the chilling connection. _Savior… Ereshkigal… Eresgal._ He swallowed hard. No one really knew how long Wraith could live; Beckett had postulated thousands of years, given their physiology, and the Wraith they'd encountered last year in the ship shot down in the Ancient war seemed to prove that theory….

As John stared at her, Eresgal's lips parted in a sneering smile, her sharp teeth gleaming in the dusk sun. "Who are you?" She ran a hand over Brantor's head.

"Brantor, Savior. I lead this village." Brantor's head was still bowed, but his voice was clear and confident. He took one hand from his chest and gestured behind him.

John's gaze followed his hand and focused on a woman who emerged from the crowd. "No…," he whispered as he watched Nasse walk up behind her father and slowly bow, duplicating his moves.

"My daughter, Nasse." Brantor's voice was proud.

Eresgal's attention turned to Nasse, and John's grip tightened on his P-90.

"Stand," Eresgal ordered. She cocked her head and stared directly in Nasse's eyes as the Olotian girl slowly stood and looked at her.

John could see the fear, laced with uncertainty, that blanketed Nasse's expression, and he ground his teeth together. _If she talks…._

"Savior." Nasse's voice was barely audible.

Eresgal slowly ran a long finger down Nasse's cheek, again smiling her sneering smile. "You are strong," her eyes passed over Nasse's body, "and healthy."

"I am very proud of her, Savior," Brantor interrupted. "She is a worthy servant."

Eresgal's expression turned cunning and calculating. "Indeed." She looked back at Nasse. "Tell me. Who has visited your world?"

Cold fear again gripped John. He bit his lip and watched intently as Nasse's expression turned uncertain. His eyes flicked to Eresgal, who also seemed to notice Nasse's hesitation.

Eresgal's finger again traced Nasse's cheek. "Tell me," she repeated, her voice deep and resonant.

Chillingly, John recognized the tone of Eresgal's voice. The queen's eyes bored into Nasse's and the girl blinked hard, as if she'd been invaded.

"They were strangers, Savior. We know not where they came from," Brantor interjected.

Eresgal's head whipped in his direction. "Be silent!" she hissed.

Brantor's shoulders slouched. "I beg forgiveness for my transgression, Savior."

Eresgal ignored him as she returned her attention to Nasse. "Who… were… they?" Her voice was deep, her words long and drawn out, and even from a short distance away, John could feel the compulsion in each of them. With cold clarity, he knew this was a very old, very powerful Wraith.

"I... do not… remember…," Nasse stuttered.

John looked away, his mind racing. Like a bad dream, more flashbacks raced through his mind.

"_Genetic marker confirmed," the hologram replied. "Welcome Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard of Atlantis."_

"_The Ancestral City is a myth," Nasse muttered._

_John glared at the hologram. "Earth," he repeated abruptly, "I was born on Earth." _

"_Earth is not recognized. You carry the genetic marker of the Lanteans, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard of Atlantis. There is no mistake."_

_Atlantis… Earth…._ John squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. _Damn it! If she remembers…. _He opened his eyes in time to see Eresgal step even closer to Nasse, her gaze locked with the girl's.

"It is there, this knowledge. Tell me." Her words seemed to caress the girl with their gentle insistence, and were devoid of any question.

John pursed his lips as his mind raced, looking for a solution.

"At…lan…tis," Nasse stammered. "They said something… about… Atlantis… and… Earth."

Eresgal shook her head violently, her dark hair whipping about her as she snarled loudly. "Tell me what you know of the Lanteans!" she shouted, her voice filled with rage. "And of Earth!"

Frustrated pain shot through John. Because of them… him, Nasse knew more than she should, and now Eresgal knew it and wouldn't stop until Nasse told her everything. He wanted to shout his rage at the injustice that had landed an innocent seventeen-year-old girl in the hands of a ten-thousand-year old Wraith queen. More than that: Eresgal now knew that the "intruders" on Olot were his people, the ones that could lead her and her hive to Earth, their rich, new feeding ground. He pulled in one deep breath, then another, struggling to stay quiet and to refocus on the scene before him. They needed intel. If Nasse told Eresgal anything, they had to know what. He swallowed hard and stared at the Wraith queen, mentally boring a hole through her head. Ironically, it made him feel better, if only slightly.

"The Lanteans… they were… once our allies," Nasse stammered. "They… we… fought you…."

"Savior!" Brantor interrupted. "I know not what she speaks of! They are lies! I have raised her to follow your ways!"

"Silence!" Eresgal snapped at Brantor. She looked back to Nasse. "Tell me more! Where are the Earth-Lanteans now?"

"I… do not… know…," Nasse whimpered as Eresgal grabbed her head.

"Tell me, human!" Eresgal hissed.

Breathing fast in barely controlled rage, John slowly leaned back behind the cart and found Ronon staring at him.

Ronon arched his brows in an unspoken question. _Attack?_

John looked away for a moment. Nasse knew too much for Eresgal to continue. They had to stop this now, even if that meant risking his team in the process. He stared down at his P-90. _One shot… center of her forehead…._ John shook his head violently, immediately dismissing the idea. There were many things he'd do to protect his team, Atlantis and Earth. But killing Nasse in cold blood wasn't one of them. That left them with only one option. He looked at Ronon and nodded. "We have to get her out of here," he whispered. "Nasse knows too much, even if she doesn't realize it. We can't let that bitch have her. Kill Eresgal if you get a shot, but Nasse is our first concern." As one, the two men rolled back to their respective sides of the cart and opened fire on the closest Wraith.

"Lanteans!" Eresgal's scream was loud and filled with anger. She left Nasse and ducked behind a cart for cover.

Panicked, the Olotians scattered, forcing John to stop firing more than once to keep from shooting an innocent. Each time he tried to draw a bead on Eresgal, she was well protected by several Olotians who had thrown themselves in front of her. She hissed defiantly.

"Split! Go left!" John pointed before dashing right and diving behind a low wall, stunner fire sizzling over him. He rolled into a crouch and peered over the top, immediately opening fire on a nearby Wraith guard, who convulsed under his shots. John spattered his chest with at least a dozen more shots and sent two more into his skull for good measure as the sound of Ronon's powerful blaster echoed from the other side of the square.

John cussed and ducked as a stun blast slammed into the wall, sending stone chips flying. He waited a breath and sat up, taking out the Wraith male who fired it. He looked around, his eyes catching on a young Olotian man who dashed across the square and directly towards Nasse.

"Nasse," the man shouted, "get out of here!"

Nasse's head turned towards him. "Rund!"

John's eyes tracked Rund, before another movement grabbed his attention. He twisted his upper body to the right and leveled a Wraith guard. By the time he looked back towards Nasse, Rund had grabbed her arm and begun running with her towards the woods. Almost immediately, Eresgal and three males took up pursuit. John lifted his head. "Nasse!" he shouted in warning but she couldn't hear him. He immediately dropped flat on his stomach as stunner fire answered his hail. Ronon's voice crackled at him over his headset.

"Sheppard, we have to get out of here."

John slapped the call button on his radio. "Copy that. Fall back to the tree line, I'll join you.

"What about Nasse?"

"She's free for now and with Rund, but the Wraith are after her. We need to get back to Teyla and the others first, and get rid of the rest of these damn Wraith! Just hope Nasse and Rund can stay one step ahead of Eresgal and her boys!"

John stood and continued firing. "Now, go!" he shouted at Ronon and immediately started backpedaling himself. A stun blast hit the ground near him and John turned, leveling the Wraith male that had fired it. As he turned back, Ronon took down a guard who was about to fire on him, and he returned the favor on another male who had Ronon in his sights. Never turning their back on the six remaining Wraith advancing on them, the two of them retreated towards the trees as fast as they could, intent on keeping the space between them and the Wraith as wide as possible.

As soon as they hit the tree line and cover, both men turned and took off at a dead run towards the grove where the rest of their team waited. John slapped his radio headset as he ducked a branch. "McKay! Teyla! Company's coming! Get Myers on her feet fast! We're almost to your position!"

"We heard the gunfire!" Rodney responded. "What the hell happened?"

"Stow it, McKay!" John barked. "We don't have time for the play by play! Just get Myers up, now!" On the heels of his words, John burst through the trees and into the grove, Ronon right next to him. John pointed at Myers braced between McKay and Teyla. "Ronon."

The ex-runner wasted no time as he holstered his gun and quickly swept the semi-conscious archeologist up in his arms. He took a moment to look at John. "Should stay with you."

"Negative," John snapped. He waved absently at Myers. "I need you to take care of her." He took a deep breath. "Long story short. The Wraith queen, the one and only Eresgal, is here. She knows Nasse knows about us, and is after her right now, with three of her males. We have to get to Nasse before she does."

"Eresgal's real?" McKay interrupted.

John waved him off. "Ronon, you and McKay get to the gate. Rodney, get the DHD fixed then you two take Myers back to Atlantis. Teyla and I will take care of this group of Wraith and go after Nasse. Once we locate her, we'll double back and come through the gate on our own." He stared directly at Ronon. "I mean it. Don't wait for us. Get Myers and yourselves back to Atlantis. That's an order."

Ronon looked on the verge of protesting, but nodded curtly.

"Hold on! I don't know how long it will take to fix the DHD!" Rodney protested. "What if I can't get it fixed before you bring a queen and her army of pissed-off Wraith down on us?"

"You better hope that doesn't happen. Get the damn thing fixed!" John turned as crashing sounds came from the trees. He whipped his head back to face Rodney. "GO!" he roared.

Ronon took a moment to stare at John in a decisively 'you better come back in one piece' way, before he turned and took off into the trees, McKay close behind.

John looked at Teyla and motioned to the other side of the grove as he stepped back into the trees at the edge of clearing. He crouched low and aimed his P-90 towards the crashing sounds, sparing a glance to watch as Teyla took a similar position opposite him, effectively creating a crossfire situation without being in each other's line of fire.

Drawing in deep, fast breaths John glared at the edge of the trees and wasted no time firing as a Wraith male suddenly burst into the grove. The sound of Teyla's P-90 joined his as they leveled a second guard. Two P-90's and a crossfire ambush proved too much for the pursuing Wraith, most of whom were already wounded, and John and Teyla efficiently took down each one of them.

John's finger relaxed on his trigger, and he waited for a long, tense moment, expecting another Wraith to appear. When none came, he slowly stood and eased out into the grove, his P-90 still ready. He glared at the downed Wraith, looking for any signs of life, but saw none in their still bodies. He lowered his P-90 and looked at Teyla, who joined him. "We have to find Nasse before the Wraith do, or Atlantis' entire cover could be blown." He sighed deeply and looked around the woods aimlessly. "Maybe we could head back to the village and wait for her to return?"

"I do not believe the Olotians will be too happy to see us, and there will probably be more Wraith there as well," Teyla reasoned. "Besides, did you not say Eresgal was pursuing Nasse and Rund?"

John nodded. "I know, but what choice do we have? Finding Nasse in the woods is like finding a needle in a haystack. It's starting to get dark, and we'd be running around blind with a Wraith queen and three males ready to jump out at us at any time." John couldn't quite keep the frustration from his voice.

"There is another way, Colonel," Teyla answered quietly.

John stared at her a moment before comprehension dawned on him. Unbidden, the sound of Teyla's broken cry as Bob the Wraith attacked her mind echoed in his ears. "No. I won't ask you to do that."

Teyla smiled slightly. "You are not asking. It is the only way. For wherever Eresgal is, you must know that Nasse cannot be far away."

John resisted, his mind racing as he searched for another option… but in vain, while precious time ticked away as he stood there. He narrowed his gaze at her. "How dangerous would it be for you to open your mind and try to locate Eresgal?"

A flash of uncertainty crossed Teyla's face. "I do not know for sure. If I open my mind, there is always a chance she could detect me."

Still breathing hard, John took a moment to think. He pursed his lips briefly before sucking in another deep breath. He shook his head. "If the stakes weren't so high…."

Teyla smiled. "I know. I will try." She pulled in a deep breath in through her mouth and let it out through her nose as her eyelids slid shut.

John watched her intently, looking for any sign of trouble. He reflexively stiffened as Teyla pulled in a sharp breath. Her eyes snapped open and she exhaled loudly. "Teyla?" he ventured quietly.

She looked squarely at him and nodded. "This way." She turned and started into the woods.

John watched her for a moment. He never liked her feeling for the Wraith with her mind. Her experiences with being taken over by the Wraith on the Hive ship and then the attack by Bob in the brig were more than he ever wanted to ask her to put herself through again. Cussing silently at the situation that left him with few options, John trotted after her.

----------------------------------------

He knew Teyla would warn him if the Wraith were close. He trusted her instincts and her sense, but he was still tense, his eyes darting from one side of their path to another. He expected Wraith to jump out from behind trees at any time, and vowed he'd be ready for it. At the same time, a faint hope gnawed at him. With any luck, they'd run into Nasse and Rund before they had to take on Eresgal and her males. Though, the way the day had gone so far, John didn't really count on any luck - or not the good kind.

He froze in his tracks as Teyla stiffened and halted on her own. Silently, he looked at her. She pulled in a deep breath and cocked her head as she slowly looked around. After a moment, her gaze settled on John. "They are close. I sense… frustration. They have not found Nasse."

"That's good," John whispered back, "and I'll take any good news I can get right now. Have you been detected?"

Teyla shook her head. "I do not believe so." She looked slightly to their left, her gaze narrowing. "They are coming this way."

John looked around the dense woods. "Wasn't there a small clearing about a hundred yards back?"

Teyla nodded, her gaze fixed on the direction the Wraith were coming from.

"Let's double back and see if we can ambush them." John slowly backed up a step before stopping. "Teyla?"

After a moment, Teyla turned and faced him. "We should hurry. She is very powerful."

John licked his lips in worry. "Yeah, I gathered that much." He grimaced. "Be careful. Break the connection if there's any danger to you, got it?" Her silent nod didn't convince him. "I mean it, Teyla," he insisted.

She smiled slowly. "I promise."

Satisfied with her word, John turned and headed back the way they'd come. Before long, he emerged in the small, natural clearing they'd passed only a few minutes before. He pointed left. "Take position over there. The 'crossfire ambush' thing seems to work really well."

Teyla nodded and slipped out of sight.

John eased around behind a large, thick bush and slowly pushed his P-90 through the branches just far enough for a clean line of fire. He settled in close to it and waited. Mentally taking stock of his ammo, he clenched his jaw as he realized he was halfway through his last P-90 clip. Given what he faced, he wasn't sure he even had enough to take them on. He hoped Teyla fared better, because he didn't look forward to facing a healthy Wraith male or, worse yet, a queen with just his nine mil. He refocused his concentration as three males walked into the clearing. John switched his P-90 to single shot mode and drew a bead on the first male's forehead. He lightly squeezed the trigger and fired, his shot hitting dead center. The male stiffened and John took the split second advantage to send another shot into its head before it fell… and didn't get up.

John turned his attention to the next one, who had already sent two stunner shots his direction: blindly, as he didn't really know where John was. It was at that moment that John realized one important point. The only gunshots he'd heard were his own. For a split second he hesitated, as a flash of worry went through him. Refocusing on the Wraith, he found a renewed urgency to finish the remaining two males as quickly as possible. Switching his P-90 back to full auto, he sent several consecutive shots into one male, before emptying the remainder of his P-90 clip into the last one. Dropping his P-90 and letting it hang from his vest, he grabbed his nine mil and stepped out of the trees. Knowing the first male was dead for sure, he concentrated his attention on the other two. One was motionless, while the other moved weakly.

Cold rage burned within him as he resisted the urge to call out to Teyla. Instead, he walked over to the wounded Wraith and stared down into its eyes with a dispassionate glare. Switching his nine mil to his left hand, he pulled his knife and slashed it across the Wraith's throat. Not sparing the Wraith another look as he stepped over it, he hastily wiped his knife across his pant leg, sheathed the blade and swapped his nine mil back to his right hand before raising it.

The stillness of the woods did nothing to comfort him. After a moment, he decided to risk radio contact, and he tapped his radio call button. "Teyla?" he asked quietly, but there was no answer. His concern mounted as he carefully walked towards Teyla's last known position.

His heart jumped and body stiffened as a tormented scream broke the stillness around him. Even in its tortured state, John chillingly recognized the voice. _Teyla!_ He broke into a run, passing a couple trees before freezing and taking in the sight in front of him. Teyla was on her knees, Eresgal's hand gripping her head. A sheen of sweat covered the Athosian woman's grimacing face, her breaths fast with pain. Wasting no time, John emptied his clip into Eresgal's back.

The Wraith Queen hissed and broke the connection. She whipped around, while Teyla crumpled into a motionless heap on the ground. "Lantean!" Eresgal sneered, and charged him.

Even with a full clip of nine mil bullets in her, Eresgal moved at an inhuman speed. In a dark instant, John knew he had no time to reload and that he was no match for her strength, _but maybe… _All thought fled him, his instincts taking over completely.

As Eresgal came at him, he grabbed her raised feeding hand by the wrist and pushed, surprised when he caught the ancient queen off guard. Pressing his brief advantage, he swung his free arm and slammed the barrel of his nine mil into her face as hard as he could.

Eresgal staggered heavily, but recovered faster than John would've thought possible. Even with adrenaline-hyped reflexes he couldn't move fast enough as she hissed and viciously backhanded him. He was powerless as he arced through the air and slammed to the ground. Fighting back the darkness that clouded the edge of his vision, he forced his lungs to take a breath and his legs to move, knowing that to remain motionless meant death. By raw determination he stood, dropped his nine mil and just managed to grab his knife as she descended on him. He ducked her blow and plunged his knife into her chest, burying it to the hilt and leaving it there as she jerked back from him with a painful cry.

His gaze focused on Teyla and at this point, more importantly, her weapons. He began to move towards her, but only got two steps in before something caught his leg and sent him sprawling to the ground. He hit the dirt and rolled, the action the only thing that saved him from Eresgal's feeding hand. Instinctively, he lashed out with his foot, his heavy combat boot driving home in her stomach.

Off balance, and weakened by wounds, Eresgal fell backwards with a defiant hiss.

John's hands clawed in the dirt as he tried to pull himself away from her and get to his feet at the same time, knowing he only had seconds to get a weapon before she'd be on him again. Staggering into a crouch, balance eluded him, so he switched tactics. Tucking his shoulder, he let his momentum carry him into a shoulder roll that took him the last, short distance to Teyla. He could hear Eresgal get to her feet, and her snarl as he grabbed Teyla's P-90, fumbled the clip to her vest and pulled it free.

With strength driven by adrenaline, he twisted and focused his sights on the Wraith queen, squeezing the trigger. He winced at the recoil of the gun as it pushed him back into Teyla's prone body, but he continued firing, his shots convulsing the queen violently before she fell hard to the ground.

Hands shaking and breaths coming in ragged gasps, he let his head fall back against Teyla's stomach for a minute. He was reassured by the feel of the rise and fall of her chest with each slow breath she took. Lifting his head, he stared at Eresgal's motionless form before he slowly stood.

Holding the P-90 close, he carefully walked up to her. His gaze narrowed dangerously as the barely-alive queen stared back at him. Movement caught his eye, and he quickly stepped down hard on her forearm as she tried to lift her feeding hand, smashing her wrist deep enough into the soft dirt for him to regain his balance. He slammed his other foot down on her neck, pinning her down. Her free hand came up to claw weakly at his boot, but he stood fast, forcefully pushing her hard against the ground.

"We… will… destroy… you…," she sneered weakly, blood streaming from the side of her mouth as her hand fell away from his leg.

John returned a humorless smile that didn't touch his dark, spite-filled eyes. "Maybe. Maybe not. But I can still kill you." Without another word, he squeezed off three shots directly into her head. He stood firm as her body tensed and convulsed, before it went limp, her unfocused dead eyes still staring up at him.

He pulled in a deep breath, wincing as his body protested, and stepped off Eresgal. Quickly, he returned to Teyla's side and knelt. He switched the P-90 to his left hand and pressed the fingers of his right into her neck and nodded at her slow steady pulse. "Teyla?" he asked softly.

Worry rose in him, along with fear, that she might be injured badly. With the death of Eresgal, it wouldn't take long for the rest of the hive to attempt retribution. He was low on ammo, split from the rest of his team, and a long way from the gate. While he'd do it without hesitation, he didn't relish the idea of having to carry Teyla on top of everything else.

"Teyla," he repeated a little louder, and a corner of his mouth turned up slightly as her brow wrinkled and a quiet groan escaped her.

She drew in a deep breath and opened her eyes.

His smile deepened. "Hey."

Teyla blinked hard. "John?"

"Yep." His smile faded. "You okay?"

"Yes." She gave him a small nod. "She was interrogating me," she whispered.

John frowned. "Looked more like torture to me."

Teyla swallowed and pulled in a deep breath. "Yes. It was… painful."

John looked up, scanning the immediate area around them, before returning his gaze to her. "You think you can stand? We probably shouldn't stay here long."

Teyla slowly pushed herself up on her elbows and paused. "Eresgal?"

"Dead," John laid a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Nice and easy now." He extended his free hand, waiting for her to take it, and then lifted himself into a crouch, firmly grasping her wrist as she took his. Slowly he stood, pulling her with him. His grip lingered a moment longer as he stared intently at her face, looking for any signs of unsteadiness.

She looked up at him and found a small smile. "I am fine. I just have a headache."

John let go of her arm and handed her back her P-90. "I don't doubt it." He pulled the emptied clip from his P-90 and looked at her. "Got an extra?" He slipped the empty one into his vest pocket.

Teyla nodded and reached into one of her pockets, producing a full P-90 clip and handing it to him. "That is my last one."

John nodded and swiftly loaded it. "Then we'll have to make each shot count." He smiled slightly.

Teyla walked past him and stopped next to Eresgal's body. She slowly knelt and pulled John's knife from the queen's chest. She stared at it a moment before looking up at him. "You fought her… hand-to-hand?"

John shrugged. "Didn't have much choice." He walked a few steps before bending down and retrieving his nine mil. He held it up as he looked back at Teyla. "She didn't exactly give me time to reload." Reaching into his belt pocket, he quickly grabbed the backup clip for the handgun and reloaded, before sliding it into his thigh holster. He again looked at Teyla as she stood and wiped his knife on her coat, removing the worst of the blood that covered it. She walked over to him.

"I believe Eresgal would've killed me to obtain the information she wanted." Teyla's gaze was warmed with gratitude. "You saved my life, John. Thank you." She expertly flipped the knife and, holding it by the blade, extended the grip towards him.

He took the knife and sheathed it, before giving her a small and slightly wry smile. "I know you'd do the same for me."

Teyla returned the smile and nodded. "Yes, I would."

"Well there you go then." John's smile faded. "That's what being on a team is all about, Teyla. We watch each other's six." He held her gaze a moment longer, before looking around and sighing quietly. "We have to find Nasse. She can't be far… I hope."

"Surely she would head towards the village," Teyla offered.

John sighed. "Been thinkin' about that, and I'm not so sure now. She seemed pretty shook up by Eresgal's interrogation, and from the looks of things, Rund wasn't as devoted to the Wraith as he was to Nasse."

"What are you saying, Colonel?" Teyla's voice sounded puzzled.

John didn't look at her. Instead he fixed his gaze on the trees. "I don't know. I just got a feeling about him." He glanced at Teyla as she walked around him and knelt, her hand gently probing a deep boot impression in the dirt.

"These belong to Eresgal. I can track back to where she and her males were, but that does us no good if Nasse and Rund have moved further on."

John walked up next to her and looked down. "Right before we ambushed them, they were headed due east," he pondered out loud.

Teyla looked up at him. "You believe that is the direction Nasse and Rund have gone?"

"Makes sense," John shrugged. "At least it gives us a direction. If we can find tracks…."

"Then I can follow them," Teyla finished confidently.

John smiled. "That's the idea." His smile faded. "Whatever we're going to do, we need to do it fast. Time's ticking for getting back to Atlantis. Ronon, Meyers and McKay should be back to the gate by now. With any luck they're back on Atlantis, and Elizabeth's sending reinforcements, but it's not going to be dark forever and I'm really not fond of the idea of making a break for the gate in broad daylight with a hive in orbit and darts around."

Teyla nodded her agreement and stood. "Then we must hurry." Without another word she set off briskly through the trees on a due east course.

John took a deep breath and followed.

-----------------------------

"Get on it, McKay," Ronon ordered as he carefully laid Myers on the ground. The archeologist hadn't regained full consciousness since their rest in the woods, and Ronon knew enough to be worried by that.

"Just give me… a second…," McKay panted heavily as he leaned on the DHD.

"Hurry up!" Ronon insisted.

"Just wait!" McKay snapped between gasps. "Somehow, I don't think… me passing out … will help… any!"

Ronon ground his teeth and looked back at Myers. He'd overheard Sheppard vowing to get McKay into the gym more often, but had never really taken it to heart until now. After all, he'd been the one carrying Myers. Ronon's gaze was unconsciously drawn to the east and the distant tree line barely visible in the dusk. His gaze narrowed as he chafed at the assignment Sheppard had given him.

"_Should stay with you."_

"_Negative," John snapped. He waved absently at Myers. "I need you to take care of her." _

Deep down, Ronon knew Sheppard had made the right choice; McKay wasn't a soldier, and leaving him on his own on a Wraith-infested planet wasn't an option. Nor was leaving Myers. Besides, apart from Sheppard, Ronon was probably the only one that could carry her for any real distance, and Sheppard damn sure wasn't going to leave while the rest of his team took off after a bunch of Wraith.

Ronon looked down at the unconscious scientist as the sound of McKay working on the DHD reached his ears. He'd follow his orders and get Myers and McKay back to Atlantis; after that, all bets were off. Reinforcements or no, Ronon was coming back for Sheppard and Teyla. A very faint smile creased his mouth. He knew without a doubt that he wouldn't be coming back alone. In his short time on Atlantis, he'd seen many things that he didn't necessarily agree with, but in spite of that, he'd been pleased to find the Atlantis expedition members shared many of his own values. Sheppard's people never left any of their number behind, and that was something Ronon deeply respected. Ultimately, it was the reason he'd stayed and joined Sheppard's team. Well, that and it was maybe the most effective way he could fight the Wraith.

His thoughts turned to the Olotians. Every fiber of his being disagreed with Weir, but that was nothing new: most of the time he disagreed with her. She was strong, he had no doubt of that, but diplomacy was never something he'd a lot of use for. He wanted, more than anything, to beat the truth into the Olotians heads. He suspected Sheppard felt the same.

His thoughts coming full circle, Ronon watched as the tree line disappeared in the growing darkness. _Stay alive._ Ronon blinked as a distant whining sound caught his attention. He looked up, tensing as the whine turned into the all too familiar sound of a Wraith dart. "McKay!" he snapped.

"Oh, what is it now…?" McKay's voice trailed off as he seemed to notice the whine as well. "That's not…?"

"Dart." The nearest cover was way too far away for them to run. With cold clarity, Ronon knew their only chance was to take advantage of the dark, hide and hope the dart hadn't detected them or wasn't scanning for them. Ronon threw himself flat on the ground next to Myers. "Get down!"

McKay stared into the dark sky for a moment. "Oh no…." He fell flat to his stomach, hiding in the long grass.

-------------------------------

John shortened his stride as Teyla's pace slowed. She scanned her light over a set of tracks in front of her, and her expression turned puzzled. John peered over her shoulder and squinted in confusion at the mess of trails criss-crossing the path. Intermixed with them were the distinct boot prints of the Wraith. "What the hell…? Teyla?"

She scanned her light left and then right before settling it on a light boot print. "This is Olotian, not Wraith. It appears at least one of them, maybe both, crossed through this area more than once."

"Backtracking and trying to evade the Wraith?" John questioned as he continued looking around.

Teyla nodded. "Yes." She stood and walked in a circle, closely scrutinizing the tracks, before kneeling again. "These are also Olotian, but not the same person as the first set. I am sure they both crossed through this area at least once. However, the tracks are not together."

"Damn it," John muttered, "they split up."

"I believe so," Teyla agreed. "It was probably another tactic to escape the Wraith."

John looked around. "Can you tell which set of tracks belong to who?"

Teyla sighed. "No." She looked at John. "Rund must not be a very large man? Both tracks have equal depressions in the dirt. I cannot tell."

John nodded. "Yeah. Rund's about the same height as Nasse, and not heavy built." He watched as Teyla slowly circled the clearing again, her gaze intently following each set of tracks as she tried to piece the puzzle together. After a few minutes, she stopped next to one set of tracks and waved him over. As he approached, John saw a single set of Olotian prints leading off into the woods again.

"Rund and Nasse must have crossed this area several times, each time coming in from the same general direction." Teyla gestured back towards the village. "I believe they were circling around in an attempt to disguise their tracks and lose the Wraith. I cannot discern any other clear set of tracks besides this one. They all cross too many times for me to be certain of a path to follow. This set, however," she focused her light on the tracks and knelt, "clearly lead away in a new direction."

"But that's only one of them," John muttered.

Teyla's sigh was loud. "Yes. I cannot tell which direction the other one went."

"And we have no idea if that's Nasse or Rund." John pursed his lips and tried to quell his frustration. They had precious few hours to find Nasse and get the hell of this planet. He drew in a deep breath. "Well, we're not making any progress just standing here." He gestured in the general direction the tracks seemed to lead. "After you."

Teyla nodded and stood. "This way, then." She jogged off through the trees, and John followed her.

After a few minutes, John looked up at the patches of deep dark sky visible through the trees overhead. "Wonder how long night is on this planet?"

"I hope it is as long, or longer, than on Atlantis," Teyla responded.

"That'd be nice, but the way our luck is going today, don't bet on it," he quipped as he pushed a branch out of his way.

-----------------------------------

Still prone, Ronon slipped his gun from its holster and held it tight next to his head as the dart approached. Its pale hull almost glowed in the faint moonlight as, not a hundred yards from them, the transport beam activated. For a moment, Ronon was sure they'd been discovered, and he barely kept himself from jumping to his feet, but nearly as quickly as it had activated, the transport beam disappeared… leaving four Wraith guards in its wake.

Ronon watched them as, deep in his gut, the familiar surge of anger he'd carried for the last seven years surfaced. He burned with hatred, malice and ruthlessness: a cold, cruel detachment that had kept him alive all his years as a Runner. He glanced down at Myers while his whole body tensed, ready to spring at the right moment. She was unconscious, helpless; a strong protective feeling, spurred by his own sense of honor and morality, coursed through him, only adding to his strength.

His gaze returned to the Wraith as the four of them walked towards the gate. Sentries, he realized, sent by the hive to guard the gate against whoever might try to escape. He cursed their luck. Killing these Wraith would shorten their escape time considerably. With Sheppard and Teyla nowhere nearby, that was the last thing Ronon wanted. He ground his teeth quietly as he realized he had no choice.

Inching away from Myers, he slid through the grass with a stealth honed by years of practice. He let the Wraith get close to him, closer than his instincts were comfortable with. Drawing in a deep breath, he reached out, grabbing the leg of the closest Wraith and yanking it off its feet. Wasting no time, he pulled a knife from his vambrace and drove it into the back of the Wraith's neck at the base of its skull, killing it instantly. Leaving the knife, he rolled, just missing a stun blast from a second Wraith. Coming up in a crouch he fired his gun twice, downing two more.

A stun blast hit the ground right in front of him, its force throwing him off balance. He fell backwards heavily and scrambled back into a crouch, only to find himself staring directly at a Wraith blaster. The fourth Wraith guard made a noise somewhat resembling a growl, and Ronon glared back, his lips curled into a sneer. Before he could do anything, the Wraith convulsed, its arms thrown wide, while the continuous shots of a nine mil on automatic echoed around them. The Wraith fell to the ground, and Ronon found himself looking at the barely visible form of McKay kneeling right in front of the DHD, his sidearm aimed at the Wraith. He must have pumped a dozen bullets into the Wraith but Ronon was taking no chances. Just for good measure, he shot the Wraith in the back of the head. Even over his own breathing, he could hear McKay's ragged breaths.

"You okay?" McKay's voice shook slightly as he lowered his gun.

"Yeah." Ronon got to his feet. "You?"

"Fine," McKay answered, "all things considered. Myers?"

Ronon knelt next to the archeologist and put his fingers to her throat. He nodded to himself at her steady pulse. "The same." He stood and turned towards McKay, taking a minute to stare at him. Surprise weaseled its way into his gut as McKay holstered his gun, turned and started working on the DHD again. McKay wasn't a fighter or a soldier; in fact he probably was the furthest from either of any person Ronon had ever met.

"_Why's he on your team, Sheppard?" Ronon arched a brow at the colonel as Sheppard twirled one Bantos stick in his hand._

"_McKay?" Sheppard frowned. "He's damn smart, that's why."_

_Ronon shook his head slightly as he slowly circled. "He's weak. Puts the whole team at risk." _

_Sheppard stopped and lowered his sticks. He stared hard at Ronon for a minute. "Rodney's…," he chuckled slightly. "Rodney's not as weak as you think he is, Ronon." His smile turned wry. "You have to drag him kicking and screaming into showing it, but when the chips are down…," His expression sobered, "McKay's there."_

"This is a problem."

McKay's voice pulled Ronon back to the present. "What?"

"The Wraith!" Never turning towards Ronon, McKay waved his hand behind him in the general direction of the dead Wraith. "Don't you think those four will be missed?"

"Yep," Ronon answered. "No choice though."

A loud sigh preceded McKay's response. "I know. If we weren't on a clock before, we are now!"

"Sheppard and Teyla too," Ronon added quietly.

McKay paused in his work. "Yeah," he answered softly. "This day just sucks."

Ronon silently nodded his agreement. "McKay," he called gruffly. He squinted as McKay turned and shone his light right into his eyes.

"Oh, sorry."

The light left his eyes and settled on his chest. Ronon blinked hard . "Thanks," he muttered.

"Yeah, didn't mean to blind you…."

"No," Ronon interrupted, slightly irritated. "For… the other."

"Oh!" McKay scratched his neck awkwardly, his expression devoid of the usual sarcasm. "Well, you're, ah, welcome." Clearly uncomfortable, he nodded once curtly, and returned his attention to the DHD.

Ronon smiled slightly before he again knelt next to Myers, reassured by the feel of his gun held tightly in his hands.

-----------------------------------

John drew in a deep breath as Teyla stopped abruptly, her expression distracted. He watched her as her eyes narrowed and she looked around. "Teyla?"

"There is someone close by," she answered with confidence.

John had long ago learned to trust Teyla's instincts on stuff like this, bowing to her lifelong experience as a hunter, in a society of people that had been hunters for generations. His gaze narrowed. "Wraith?"

She shook her head. "No." Again she looked around. "I just feel it in the woods; the quiet…." Her voice trailed off as she lifted her gun and turned. "This way."

John reached out and grabbed her upper arm. "Hold on. I'll take point." He held her gaze for a moment, before she nodded slightly. He lifted his gun. "How far?"

"I do not know," she answered, "but close."

He sighed quietly. "Great." Carefully, he continued through the underbrush, scanning his light back and forth trying to spot anything dangerous. Traipsing through the woods on a Wraith-infested planet, in the dark…. _How the hell do you get yourself into these things, Sheppard? _"You're sure it's not Wraith?"

"Yes," Teyla whispered, "I am positive. I sense nothing."

John stopped abruptly, as his light focused on a spot of color in front of him. His eyes widened as, in the stark light from his P-90, the spot of color turned into the form of a person. "Crap," he muttered. Stepping over some underbrush, he knelt next to the remains of a young Olotian man. Withered from being fed upon, there was still no mistaking the clothes and what was left of his features. "Rund."

"The Wraith must have caught him," Teyla knelt on the other side of Rund, "and interrogated him."

John sighed loudly. "Yeah." He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head as he thought briefly of Nasse's words.

"_I have known Rund since we were both children. He will make a fine husband."_

"They were going to be married…." he said quietly. There was a snap in the woods behind him. Still kneeling, John whirled around, lifting his gun to a defensive position and simultaneously switching off the safety. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Teyla do the same. He stared at the woods for a moment, looking, listening… feeling for anything. "Teyla?" he whispered.

"Come out," Teyla called quietly, "we will not hurt you."

_Okay, not Wraith…._ John's eyes widened as a young woman slowly appeared at the edge of his light circle. He relaxed slightly and let out his pent-up breath. "Nasse." He lowered his gun.

Nasse looked past him to Rund, her hesitant expression turning shocked. She pulled in a stuttering breath, then another. "Rund!" she screamed as she stumbled through the underbrush and fell to her knees next to John. Her breathing rapid, she fingered Run's shirt with a shaky hand before she pushed away from John and stood, her shocked expression laced with hurt fear and anger. "You killed him!"

John raised his hand in a placating manner. "Whoa, we didn't do this. We found him this way."

"The Wraith killed him, Nasse," Teyla insisted.

John stared hard at the terror he saw in Nasse's eyes. Her whole body shook uncontrollably: driven past the point of rational thought by the events of the last few hours, she was near her emotional breaking point. The death of Rund would likely tip her over the edge.

"Why did you do this?" Suddenly, all the shouting and anger was gone from her and all she could manage was a whisper.

John put as much reassurance in his expression as he could muster. "Nasse," he said gently, "we're telling you the truth. The Wraith were probably interrogating him, trying to find out where you were because…," he closed his eyes for a moment, fighting an underlying feeling of guilt, "because you know more about us then you should." He took a deep breath. "I promise you, we didn't do this."

Nasse blinked hard, streams of tears cutting paths through her dirty face. "Rund." Her voice wavered. "He told me the Savior's servants would hurt me…told me to run…." She swallowed hard and pulled in a stuttering breath. "She is the Savior… but her hand…. She hurt me…." Trembling wracked her body as the shock she felt manifested itself physically.

"Nasse," Teyla's voice was soft. "You must believe us."

"No…." Abruptly, Nasse collapsed, the physical and emotional strain overwhelming her.

John jumped to his feet and ran over to her. He grabbed her wrist and nodded at her pulse. "Probably for the best right now." He looked around quickly, considering the few choices they had. They couldn't leave her here, unconscious and alone… and then there was the not-so-small matter of her knowing exactly who they were. His gaze narrowed as his mind latched onto the only option that was viable. Without a word, he scooped Nasse up in his arms and stood.

"Colonel?" Teyla asked hesitantly.

John turned to face her. "Well, we can't leave her lying here."

"No…." Teyla drew out the word slightly before falling silent.

Even by the harsh illumination of her P-90 flashlight, John could still see the hesitation in her expression. He suspected she knew what he was going to say next, but voiced it anyway. "We can't leave her here… period."

"Colonel," Teyla immediately responded, "we do not know if Nasse wishes to leave Olot."

"Well we can't exactly ask her right now, can we?" he quipped darkly.

"John…"

"Teyla." John interrupted. He intensified his stare. "She knows too much about Atlantis and about us. We don't have a choice."

Even though Teyla nodded silently, her expression was far from convinced.

John sighed and looked around, deciding to change the subject. "We've gone in so many damn circles, I'm all turned around."

Teyla was silent a moment longer before she looked to her left and nodded. "The gate is that way."

John shifted Nasse in his grip. "Take the point and keep a sharp eye out." As Teyla started through the woods, he took a deep breath and followed. There'd be consequences to doing this, he had no doubt, but right now his only focus was on keeping his team alive, getting them home, and protecting Atlantis' cover. Everything else –even Nasse, as much as he hated to admit it – was secondary.

---------------------------------------

"Ah-ha!"

From his place next to Myers, Ronon arched his brows in McKay's direction. "What?"

"Got it," McKay responded, a smug note of triumph in his voice. "Uploading the stellar drift calculations now."

"Then we're ready to get out of here." Ronon stood and started to reach for Myers when McKay's voice stopped him.

"Did I say that? No!" McKay snapped.

"What's wrong?" Ronon glared in annoyance.

"Oh I don't know, I thought maybe I'd disable the dampening field so we don't splatter against Atlantis' shield when they fail to receive our IDC code!" McKay shot back.

Ronon resisted the urge to knock McKay flat on his back. "How long?" he growled.

"Shouldn't take me more than a few minutes," McKay answered, his voice somewhat back to normal.

Ronon's gaze narrowed as he looked out across the pre-dawn horizon. Near as he could guess, the sunrise was less than an hour away. Soon, the entire grasslands would be open and clearly visible in the daylight. "McKay, with the dampening field down, will we be able to radio Sheppard?" He looked back at the scientist.

McKay's head popped out from under the DHD. "I don't see why not."

"Then get it down," Ronon answered.

"Then stop distracting me!" McKay shot back.

As the pre-dawn light continued to get brighter, Ronon's instincts put him on edge. He looked around impatiently, part of him just waiting for something to jump out at them.

"That's it, it's down." McKay pushed himself out from under the DHD and replaced the panel cover.

Ronon wasted no time, quickly tapping his radio earpiece. "Sheppard, Teyla. You hear me?" He glanced at McKay, his gaze narrowing as the radio stayed silent.

McKay activated his headset. "Sheppard, Teyla, this is McKay. Do you copy?"

"Loud and clear, Rodney," Sheppard's voice immediately answered. "I take it you have the DHD fixed and the dampening field down. You guys okay?"

Ronon exhaled quietly, tension flowing out of his body. His radio had obviously been damaged somehow, but at least he could still listen.

"We do," McKay answered triumphantly. "And yes, we're fine. You?"

"Been better, but we're okay," Sheppard responded. "You better be talking to me through an open wormhole from… home. If so, I wouldn't complain if you sent some help. If not, then get your asses through the gate now. That's an order." There was a pause. "Then send help… and a Jumper."

"Where are you?" McKay's brow crinkled.

"Just left the woods for the grasslands." Ronon could hear Sheppard suck in a deep breath. "We're quite a ways off yet."

"Grasslands, how…?"

"Rodney, enough with the twenty questions!" Sheppard interrupted. "Get home, send help. Move!" He voice was sharp and slightly winded.

McKay sighed. "Right. Help's coming. McKay out."

Ronon knelt and carefully picked up Myers as Rodney dialed the DHD and sent his IDC code through the wormhole. He tapped his radio. "This is McKay coming through."

"We hear you, Dr. McKay," a gate technician answered. "The shield is down."

"Copy that," McKay answered.

Ronon stopped next to him. "They're in trouble," he muttered. It took everything he had to resist shoving Myers off on McKay and taking off to find Sheppard. "We have to help them."

McKay nodded. "Yep." Without another word he trotted towards the wormhole.

Ronon watched him for a second and then, holding Myers tightly, he followed.

-------------------------

"Incoming wormhole!"

Elizabeth froze, mid pace, as the wormhole flushed into existence. Ever since Colonel Sheppard's team had missed their scheduled check-in hours ago, she'd been on edge. Lorne had wanted to go after them, but she'd stopped him, finally having to resort to an order to restrain him. Given what they'd known about Olot, and the fact that she couldn't reach her team on the radio or even connect to the MALP to at least see the area immediately around the gate, she wasn't about to send another team blindly through. It was a decision she hated to make, but one she knew was right… and she knew Colonel Sheppard would have agreed with her.

Now, as the shield popped into place, she whirled and stared at Chuck. "Do we have a code?"

Chuck gave her a big grin. "Reading Dr. McKay's IDC."

Elizabeth sighed and nodded. "Lower the shield." She jogged out of ops and down the stairs into the Gate room, stopping as Rodney emerged from the wormhole with Ronon, carrying Dr. Myers, right behind him. She hit her radio headset. "Medical team to the Gateroom!" Breaking into a trot, she hurried towards them as Ronon gently laid Myers on the floor, halting next to Rodney as the wormhole disengaged. "Where's Colonel Sheppard and Teyla?"

"Long story," Rodney snapped hastily. "We need reinforcements and a Jumper to go back for them immediately."

Her mind racing, Elizabeth still forced a note of calmness to her voice. "What happened?"

"We have to go back," Ronon stood and faced her.

"It's a long story!" Rodney repeated his voice rising in volume. "I'm telling you, we have to go get them now!"

"Gentlemen!" Elizabeth said loudly and sharply, cutting off protests from both of them. She scrutinized each of them for a moment, noticing their haggard appearances and the obvious effect adrenaline was having on both of them. She raised a placating hand. "We will send help," she reassured, her voice back to normal volume, "but in order to do that, I need to know exactly what's going on." She tapped her radio. "Major Lorne, report to the Gate room immediately."

"On my way." Lorne's answer was quick.

Elizabeth stepped back, Rodney and Ronon following her, as a medical team, led by Beckett, rushed to Myers' side.

"Ach, what happened?" Beckett demanded as he knelt next to the unconscious woman.

"Fell," Ronon supplied. "Hit her head. Been awake off and on since."

"Aye." Beckett turned his attention to Myers.

Elizabeth looked to her left as Major Lorne trotted in from the east entrance. He stopped next to her and looked around. "Where's Colonel Sheppard and Teyla?"

"Back on Olot!" Rodney snapped. "Can we please get on with this?"

"Rodney!" Elizabeth admonished silencing him. "Calm down and tell us exactly what happened." Her eyes darted back and forth between him and Ronon as the two men gave her a sketchy outline of the mission. Finally she nodded. "I'm sure there's more to this, but that can wait." She turned to Lorne. "Major, get a team of Marines together and take a Jumper. Be ready in ten minutes."

"Yes, ma'am." Lorne trotted off, already barking orders in his headset.

"I'm going." Ronon stepped past her.

"Me too," Rodney agreed.

Elizabeth sighed as she looked at the determination in both men's tired faces. After a moment she nodded. "Go." She turned and watched them as they both headed for the stairs. Concern wormed its way into her. The Olotians… the Wraith. This had been a dangerous deal from the start, but the potential was worth the risk. Until now… She slowly turned around and stared at the inactive gate. _Nothing is worth losing either one of you. _

---------------------------------------

John's legs burned. He could feel a trickle of sweat making its way down the side of his face as he held fast to Nasse and jogged after Teyla. He stumbled, but caught himself and kept going.

"Colonel?" Teyla questioned, looking back at him.

"I'm okay," John gasped.

"It is not far to the gate," Teyla reassured.

"Glad to hear…." He lurched to a stop as Nasse stirred in his arms and moaned quietly. "Nasse?"

Slowly, Nasse's eyes opened and fixed on his.

"You're okay," John reassured, as Teyla jogged back to him. "We're going to help you."

Abruptly, Nasse's eyes widened. Her body stiffened and she started squirming. "Let me go!"

John couldn't hang onto her as her struggling intensified, so he set her on her feet but held fast to her arm. "Nasse, calm down, it's okay!"

She pulled against him. "Let go of me!" she screamed.

"Nasse…." John's voice trailed off as a distant noise caught his attention. He looked around, as the hum grew louder. "That better not be…."

"Dart!" Teyla shouted, just as the hum turned to the all too familiar whine. She opened fire immediately as the Dart swept in low over the trees.

"Damn it!" John held tightly to Nasse with one hand while he awkwardly lifted his P-90 with the other and opened fire. "We gotta get to the gate!"

"No!" Nasse struggled against his grip. "I will not leave Olot!"

John kept pulling, adrenaline lending strength to his fatigued legs. "You have to trust me, Nasse. You have to come with us!" he insisted.

"Colonel!"

Teyla's warning shout grabbed his attention and John spun, putting himself between Nasse and the approaching Dart. Forced to let go of her to steady his P-90, he was momentarily surprised when she didn't run. Lifting the gun, he fired, his shots joining Teyla's as the Dart screamed towards them.

"Duck!" John risked a glance and saw the indecision in Nasse's face. Grabbing her arm, he pushed her left before following himself, just barely leaping out of the way of the transport beam. He hit the ground hard and rolled, coming up in a crouch, and began firing again on the retreating Dart.

"Colonel, I am low on ammunition!" Teyla called. She had ceased fire and was watching the Dart make a wide turn and come back towards them.

"I know, me too!" John looked around, searching for options, his mind racing. The trees were too far off for the three of them to make a run for it. John looked back at the Dart, his eyes narrowing in rage as it approached them. Given the choice of surrendering or fighting, he'd go down fighting. John did a double take as Nasse slowly stood and lifted her arms in an open gesture.

"My fate is the Offering," she said quietly, her voice strangely calm.

Somewhere in the recesses of John's mind, Elizabeth's words about non-interference fleeted through his thoughts, but they were soundly and utterly squashed, not only by his own values but by the knowledge of what would happen if Nasse fell into the Wraith's hands. "Like hell it is!" He launched himself at Nasse, his weight pushing them both out of the path of the beam. Again, he hit the ground, rolled and fired on the Dart. He could feel the pins and needles of the beam's near miss on his back, but he tuned out the pain and continued firing until the only thing his P-90 could give him was a pathetic click. "That's it, I'm out." He dropped the P-90, letting it hang from his vest, and smoothly pulled his sidearm. Over the top of the gun, his cold gaze never left the approaching Dart.

"I will fire until I have nothing left," Teyla said quietly, her own sidearm held steadily in her hands and her words echoing his thoughts. John nodded and he took a deep breath, steadying himself.

Abruptly, the Dart exploded in a flash of orange-yellow light. John flinched, throwing one hand up to shield his eyes. "What the hell…?" His jaw dropped as a Jumper skimmed in low over the trees.

"Thought you could use a hand, sir," Lorne's voice came over John's radio. "Someone call for a taxi?"

John tapped his headset. "Major, your timing's uncanny. Land that thing so we can get the hell out of here." He turned to look for Nasse and had to make a quick grab for her arm as she tried to run. Turning her towards him, he stared intently at her. "If you don't trust me, then trust Rund. He told you to run, told you the queen would hurt you. If you stay here, the Wraith will hurt you." His grip tightened on her arms. "He died trying to save you. Don't make it in vain."

Shaking, Nasse swallowed hard, before finally nodding.

Cautiously, John let go of her and looked up, waving at the Marines who were emerging from the back of the Jumper. Behind them, he caught sight of Ronon running towards him.

John flashed a quick smile at the ex-Runner. "Nice to see you again."

His gun drawn, Ronon spared John a slightly bemused expression. "Always bailing your ass out," he muttered.

"Sir," Lorne's voice hailed him over the radio. "Company's comin'. We need to go now."

John slapped his headset. "Copy that, Major." He grabbed Nasse's arm, pulling her with him. "Come on!" His attitude and strength left no room for question and Nasse stumbled along with him.

John had only got only a few steps before a deep, rumbling vibration resonated against his chest and through the ground under his feet. It took only a moment for him to recognize the sound. "Cruiser!" John let go of Nasse and grabbed the arm of the nearest Marine, relieving the sergeant of his P-90. Next to him, he heard Ronon's weapon power up. He pushed Nasse at the sergeant. "Take her! Go!" he ordered the sergeant, before turning and taking aim, the big cruiser distinctly visible against the rising sun. He spared a glance at Nasse, noting her hesitation. "Those guys will take care of you. Move!"

Nasse stared at him for a moment, before giving in to the sergeant's urgent pulling on her arm.

Next to Ronon, John backpedaled, never taking his eyes from the cruiser. Suddenly, a high pitch wail joined the low hum of the cruiser's engines as three darts exited it.

"Sir, we've got incoming!" Lorne's voice shouted over John's radio.

"I see that, Major! They're not interested in killing us or they would've opened fire by now. They want us alive!" As he reached the back ramp of the Jumper, John paused, letting the rest of his men, Ronon and Teyla enter the craft first. The three darts swooped low and activated their beams as they headed straight for him. John held his ground and fired his P-90 as the last two Marines ran flat out for the Jumper. The two Marines passed him and dashed up the ramp, and he lowered his gun and ran in behind them. "They're going to take the Jumper with all of us in it!"

"They can't!" Rodney shot back from his place in the co-pilot's seat. "The materialization beams have a finite mass limitation! The Jumper's too big!"

True to Rodney's word, the three darts peeled off at the last minute, just before the cruiser opened fire.

John slapped the hatch control. "Looks like they changed their minds about killing us! Major! Cloak and get us the hell out of here!"

"Yes, sir!" Lorne answered immediately.

John reached up, holding tightly to the webbed storage nets as the Jumper lurched off the ground even before the back ramp was entirely closed. He caught a last glimpse of the Olotian dawn just before the ramp sealed shut, and then sidestepped Nasse and stopped behind Lorne's chair. His gaze narrowed at the HUD. "High-tail it. They know the only place we have to go is the gate. As soon as those Darts circle around, that's the first place they'll head to. We need to get there before them."

"Yes, sir," Lorne stared hard out the windshield.

John felt the vibrations under his feet as the Jumper kicked in with an extra burst of speed.

"They're gaining on us," Rodney commented, his gaze also riveted on the HUD. "It'll be close to beat them."

"At least they can't see us," Ronon interjected, earning himself a brief but fully annoyed glare from Rodney.

"It won't matter! If they beat us to the Gate, all the have to do is lay down fire directly in front of it and we're screwed!"

"McKay!" John snapped. "What's the range on the DHD?"

"Range? What?"

"Are we close enough to dial?" John hissed through clenched teeth.

Rodney's eyes widened. "Yes!" He hastily punched the chevrons for Atlantis' address, before scrutinizing an auxiliary reading on the HUD. "Gate is active."

John reached up and tapped the comm. "Atlantis, this is Sheppard. Keep the shield up until I tell you to lower it. We're coming in hot."

"Colonel?" Elizabeth's voice immediately answered. "I'd rather not risk it and lower the shield now."

"Negative!" John snapped back. "There're Darts in the area. The last thing we need is a kamikaze Wraith making a run at the Gate room! Keep it up, but be ready to lower it on my mark… and clear the gate room of personnel immediately!"

"Copy that, Colonel," Elizabeth responded, "standing by."

"It's gonna be close, sir," Lorne stated, as the faint glow of the wormhole became visible, though barely, in the distance.

"Is it ever not close?" Rodney muttered.

John stared at the HUD for a moment, before fixing his eyes on the rapidly approaching gate. "Stand by, Atlantis." He took a moment to glance down at Lorne. "Major, you're gonna to have to hit the brakes fast."

"Yes, sir," Lorne nodded in agreement.

"Atlantis, be ready to bring that shield up as soon as we're through." John watched the gate intently. "Lower the shield!"

"Shield is down!" Elizabeth's confirmation came back almost immediately.

"Tuck and go!" John ordered Lorne, falling into the slang for retracting the drive pods and entering the wormhole. He watched the event horizon rapidly approach, before the familiar tingling sensation of wormhole travel overtook him. Almost instantly, he found himself staring at Atlantis' Gate room and reaching out to steady himself as the inertial dampeners couldn't quite fully compensate for Lorne's fast stop. It felt like the entire Gate room shook from the impact of what he assumed were the three darts meeting their deaths against the gate shield.

John stared for a moment at the Gate room stairs, barely ten feet in front of them, before he sighed deeply. "Damn fine flying, Major." He glanced over at Lorne who sat back and wiped a line of sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.

"Thank you, sir." Pulling back gently on the controls, Lorne took the jumper up towards the bay.

"Colonel, are you okay?" Weir's voice came across the Jumper's com system.

"We're all in one piece," John replied, before wincing at his sore muscles. "More or less."

"Glad to hear that." Elizabeth's voice sounded relieved. "We'll debrief after you all get a once over in the infirmary."

"Roger that," John confirmed. "Sheppard out."

--------------------------------

Elizabeth stopped just inside the doorway to the infirmary, pausing a moment to take stock of what was happening. Teyla sat on one bed, her back against the wall as Dr. Biro listened to her chest with a stethoscope. John, Ronon and Rodney stood nearby. John looked tired, and sported a few scrapes and a bit of dirt, but otherwise seemed none the worse for wear. Elizabeth's gaze passed over him and fixed on a young woman in simple, rough-spun clothing, sitting on the bed next to Teyla with her legs drawn up, Carson talking quietly to her. Elizabeth's eyes narrowed as she put two and two together, and she wondered if her military commander had completely lost his mind.

Compassion tempered her anger as she regarded the young Olotian. The girl's face was drawn but emotionless, as if she was too shocked to feel anything. Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth looked back to John, just in time to make eye contact with him as he noticed her in the doorway. He flashed her a small, strained smile, before walking over to her. When he stopped in front of her, she stared at him for a long moment. "Glad to see you in one piece, Colonel," she managed cordially.

John quirked a brow. "Not half as glad as I am to be in one piece. Was wondering for a while…."

Elizabeth's thoughts touched on the dangers her people faced every time they went through the Stargate, and how some of them never came back…. She shook her head slightly and dismissed the thoughts, before nodding her head pointedly at the Olotian. "The girl is the one that found out about Atlantis I presume?"

John's smile faded as he turned towards the bed. "Yeah. That's Nasse. Brantor's daughter."

Elizabeth rubbed her brow wearily as she struggled to contain her frustration. "You brought her here?" She shook her head.

"What was I supposed to do?" John's reply was quietly but defensive. "We couldn't just leave her there for the Wraith to find. Besides, we couldn't leave her unconscious in the woods."

Elizabeth looked up at him. "Unconscious? What happened?"

"The Wraith killed her fiancé… probably trying to learn about us. He was fed upon." John sighed. "It was… well, with everything else, it was too much for her to handle, I think."

"Fiancé?" Elizabeth squinted at the youthful appearance of the girl. "She can't be more then sixteen years old."

"Almost eighteen," John answered. "They marry young." His voice turned cynical. "Gotta have kids before you're taken in an Offering."

Elizabeth drew in a silent breath as she struggled to control the whirlwind of conflicting emotions within her. Marrying young was part of many cultures she'd encountered, yet John's reason why it was the custom among the Olotians was a cold dose of reality she wasn't sure she liked. The line in the sand – the one between leaving a culture alone and taking action – was, at best, ambiguous to her. Containing her indecision, she looked up, meeting John's strong gaze with one of her own. His expression was unapologetic; not that she expected anything else. One of his greatest strengths was his confidence in himself and his opinions, even if sometimes it was a weakness too. His line in the sand was drawn…. It'd been drawn a long time ago, and never changed. Part of her envied that, but another part of her was wary of it. "Rodney said an Olotian hologram identified all of you? That's how she found out about us?"

"Yeah," John shifted his weight from one foot to another, looking away.

"And that's the one that self destructed?"

"Yeah," John repeated.

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow as John refused to either make eye contact with her or offer up any more information other than one-word answers to her direct questions. The worried feeling in her gut intensified, colored with a stroke of apprehension. "I see. Should be an interesting debriefing."

Still not looking at her John nodded slightly. "You have no idea...," he muttered.

She stared at him a minute, resisting the urge to demand answers on the spot, before she walked towards Teyla's bed, sensing more than hearing John follow behind her. She smiled at Teyla, who returned the gesture. "Are you okay, Teyla?"

"I am fine, Dr. Weir," Teyla replied.

"She is," Dr. Biro confirmed. "But she should take it easy for a couple of days to be sure."

"What happened?" Silence met Elizabeth's question and she watched as Teyla's smile faded. Elizabeth looked at each member of John's team, all of them refusing to make eye contact with her except John, who grimaced slightly.

"Probably should save that for the debriefing," he suggested.

Elizabeth nodded slightly, the knot of apprehension in her gut tightening. "I see." She fought to keep the irritation from overpowering her, but failed. "Is everyone on Colonel Sheppard's team fit to be released?" She looked to Biro.

Biro seemed to sense the tension and backed up a step before nodding. "Yes, I can see no reason to keep any of them here." She flashed Elizabeth a strained smile. "Excuse me." She turned and hastily left.

Apprehension, tension and even a spark of frustrated anger all made their presence known inside of her, and Elizabeth fixed John with a no-nonsense stare. "I want to speak with Nasse first." She looked around at each member of his team. "Briefing room. Ten minutes."

As Ronon, Teyla and Rodney left without speaking, Elizabeth looked back at John and studied his expression. As usual, confidence and keen awareness dominated: he hardly ever second-guessed himself, nor did much slip past him. But, beyond that, there was a note of sincerity and even regret, and Elizabeth wondered about both of those emotions. After a moment, he swallowed and then spoke.

"I'll introduce you." He stepped past Elizabeth and walked over to Nasse.

Elizabeth followed him and stopped on his left side as he reached out and lightly touched Nasse's arm.

"Nasse?" John gestured at Elizabeth, "This is Dr. Elizabeth Weir. She leads our people."

Elizabeth found a small smile as the Olotian girl looked at her. "Hello," she said warmly, but Nasse just stared at her.

Elizabeth walked closer. "For now, I'm going to ask you to stay here in the Infirmary. Dr. Beckett's people will take good care of you. I need to meet with Colonel Sheppard and his team. After that, you and I will decide what's next together."

Nasse nodded silently, before looking back down at her bent knees.

Elizabeth reached out, grabbing Carson's arm as he walked away from Nasse's bed. "How is she?" she asked quietly.

Carson sighed. "Physically, she's a little battered but fine. Emotionally, she's in shock. It'll be a while before I can really assess her emotional state."

Elizabeth's brows furrowed as empathy flowed through her. The girl was from a primitive society; in the course of one day she'd been interrogated by Wraith, pursued by them, seen her fiancé killed, had everything she believed in brought to question, and been swept away to a strange place. Frankly, Elizabeth was surprised she'd held it together this long.

Carson waved to one of his nurses who walked over. "Becky, love will you get her some food and a hot shower?"

Becky slowly walked up to Nasse and smiled gently, before helping her off the bed. Nasse seemed weak on her feet, but looked up at Becky's smiling face and after a moment returned a tentative small smile of her own.

Elizabeth turned her attention back to John. Motioning her head towards the door, she exited the infirmary, John right behind her.

As they walked silently down the long hallway towards the command deck, Elizabeth's attention refocused on the debriefing. She pondered John's hesitant reaction to her questions. She knew the two of them didn't agree on how to handle the Olotian situation and that alone bothered her. She valued his opinion, and knew he valued hers, but in this matter they couldn't seem to see eye to eye. But, then, she was having a hard enough time sorting out her own principles: part of her agreed with him, even as another part of her couldn't condone the interference. And lacking his support was making her feel very isolated.

"Elizabeth?"

John's voice pulled her from her thoughts. Just shy of the back stairs to the command deck, she stopped and faced him. Her eyes narrowed at the sincere and almost regretful look on his face. She gave him a moment, then two, before prompting him. "John?"

He inhaled deeply. "I know we don't agree on any of this," he said quietly, "but before we go in there, I want to say… well… I'm sorry."

Elizabeth felt a great rift in her emotions. On one side, she was filled with apprehension for the imminent debriefing and for what apparently had occurred on Olot, because whatever it was, it had to be significant for him to say what he did. John Sheppard rarely apologized for anything he did, and that alone alarmed her.

But, on the other side, she felt quiet strength in his statement and the lonely road she felt she was on, suddenly wasn't so lonely anymore. Regardless of their differences in opinions, he still respected her as much as she did him, and that gave her strength. In a rare moment for her, words escaped her, so she settled on a slight nod before slowly walking up the stairs.

------------------------------

John halted at the top of the command deck stairs and looked around. Elizabeth's office was empty and there was no sign of her anywhere in Ops. His brows creased as his frown deepened. She'd mostly been silent throughout the entire briefing, only asking a few questions here and there for clarification. When they'd finished, she'd sat quietly for a moment, only to get up and leave without a word. His last glimpse of her had been of her back as the door to the Deck had closed behind her.

John absently ran his hand through his hair, still damp from the shower, and walked up to the technician on duty. "Chuck, where's Dr. Weir?"

Chuck glanced at him for a minute before looking towards the closed Deck door. "Out there. Come to think of it, she's been there for a while…." He glanced at John with a non-committal shrug.

John did his best to hide his worry and surprise. He'd already been through the shower and to the mess – a good forty-five minutes – and she still hadn't come back inside? After being awake for going on eighteen hours, he really needed a nap, but he'd postponed it, feeling he should talk to Elizabeth again…. He stared at the exterior door for a moment, before he nodded once at Chuck. "Thanks." He crossed the command deck, took a deep breath and waved his hand over the crystal.

A cool breeze ruffled his hair and washed over his face as he stepped out onto the Deck, and he was glad he'd grabbed his jacket. He squinted slightly as his eyes adjusted to the overcast sky, still brighter than the interior of Atlantis. Looking left, he sighed as he spotted her, leaning on her crossed arms, her back to him as she stared out over the ocean. She didn't flinch as the door closed behind him, and he suspected she was so deep in thought that she hadn't even noticed.

For a minute, he stared at her. All his life, he'd see everything so black and white. To him there was a right and a wrong, and no matter where you went or what you did, that never changed. Then, he'd met Elizabeth Weir, who had made a career out of trying to understand and respect different people's perceptions of the very standards he held to be absolute. He wasn't ashamed to admit that, at first, he'd been genuinely concerned that would lead to indecision and cripple her ability to lead. But, as time passed, he'd seen that it only strengthened her. In some ways, they were so different, her and him, but oddly enough, it seemed to work well for Atlantis…

…until they got crossways of each other.

John shook his head. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see the Olotian situation any differently. What was happening on Olot was wrong and he believed that all the way down to the core of his being. He'd seen a glimmer of indecision in Elizabeth's eyes, more than once, but she'd buried it, and he wanted to know why.

His steps slow, John crossed the Deck and stopped right behind her. He cleared his throat quietly, hoping not to startle her. "Elizabeth?" he ventured.

"Now's not a good time, John."

He pursed his lips at her no-nonsense tone of voice, but, if anything, her demeanor reassured him that he was doing the right thing. "We need to talk about this, Elizabeth."

"There's not much to talk about, John," she answered quietly. "The death of Eresgal will shatter the Olotian society and all their beliefs. Nasse is only the beginning. There's no changing any of that now."

John felt a spike of anger rise within him as he walked up next to her. "You think I had a choice? The bitch was torturing Teyla. She would've learned all about Atlantis, and then killed both of us, if I hadn't have killed her first. Trust me; I have the sore body to show for it." He stared hard at Elizabeth as she turned and faced him, her face filled with strife.

"I know that," she insisted quietly. "I just…," her voice trailed off as she turned to face the ocean again. "I wish it didn't have to happen."

John thought for a moment before he nodded. "Me too." He arched an eyebrow at her surprised look. "What? You think I like fighting for my life and the lives of my team at every turn?" He took a step closer to her. "But that's the Wraith's fault. Not ours."

"Are you sure?" She turned and faced him.

John's gaze narrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"What about the innocent people like Nasse and Rund and the Olotians that get caught in the crossfire? What about our interference? Every time we step through that gate we're interfering with another society. Is that really right?"

John turned away and took a deep breath as he tried to collect his thoughts. What was she driving at? Suspending gate travel? Abandoning Atlantis and this galaxy to their own fate? He turned back and faced her. "We have to go through that gate, Elizabeth. It's the only way we'll find the technology to beat the Wraith. When an opportunity like Olot comes along, we have to jump on it."

For the first time since he'd come out onto the Deck, Elizabeth uncrossed her arms and threw them wide. "And what about the people of Olot, or any other planet like it? Are they just a means to an end for us? Use them, and then move one when we don't find what we're looking for? To hell with them and their society and whatever damage we've done to it?"

He stared incredulously at her. "We offered them a fair trade. We told them what we wanted, and what we offered in return, and they accepted it."

"A few crates of antibiotics seem to be a small price to pay for destroying their society, John," she answered quietly.

He shook his head. "Elizabeth, we're not to blame here. We're just trying to find a way to survive against the Wraith, maybe even defeat them. That's worth a hell of a lot of risk."

"To us," she answered quietly, "but what right do we have to make that decision for every society we encounter?" She walked along the Deck, running her hand lightly across the railing. "All my life, I've tried to respect other cultures: the rights of other people to have different beliefs and ways of life then me; their right to live their lives as they see fit, even if it's different than mine. Now? I've spent the last year sending teams all over the galaxy looking for technology, trying to defeat the Wraith… and stepping all over who knows how many cultures in the process. Look what our interference did to Athos, for god's sake!" She stopped and her head fell back as she sighed loudly. "I've been doing the very thing I've fought against my whole career." She bowed her head. "Either I'm wrong now… or I have been my whole life," she finished quietly.

Concern replaced all the frustration John had. He walked up to her and tried to capture her attention. "Elizabeth, this is nothing like anything we've ever encountered on Earth. I remember telling you that had the Wraith been at the Geneva Convention, they would've tried to feed on the delegates. The point is, the rules aren't the same here. You can't hold yourself accountable for decisions you've had to make in order to survive, when the entire playing field and rules are totally different." He paused a moment before continuing. "You can't judge yourself by that standard anymore."

Slowly, she looked up at him. "What about my own values, John? I have to hold myself to my own standards, no matter where I am or what the rules are."

John swallowed hard, before narrowing his gaze. "And are you?"

She sighed deeply and looked away. "I don't know."

He turned away from her and walked across the Deck. For the first time since he'd known her, she seemed wracked with indecision, and he wasn't quite sure how to handle it. He stopped on the far side of the Deck and looked back at her. "What do you want from me?" he asked. His expression turned sympathetic as she visibly sagged in response to his question.

"I don't know," she repeated quietly, before turning to face the ocean again. She absently rubbed her bare arms as she stared down at the water. Again he felt the cold breeze on his face and, at a loss as to what to do for her, in the end, he settled for the simplest thing he could manage. Shrugging out of his coat, he quietly walked up behind her and laid it over her shoulders. He took a minute to squeeze her arm, before he turned and, without further words, left her alone.


	3. Book II Ch 1

Part 2: Accepting:

_Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival. _

_~Winston Churchill_

-------------------------------

He was so tired. His body hurt, his mind was numb and his spirit… his spirit was in anguish. _What have we done?_

They'd come in their great ships and had laid waste to all he'd worked so hard to build and protect. Many of his people lay dead or injured, their homes destroyed, and for what? Why would the Savior do this? He and his village had always been loyal servants.

The anguish in his heart intensified. _Nasse_. The last he'd seen of her, she'd been running into the forest while the Off-worlders attacked the Savior and her companions. "Daughter," he whispered, his voice barely overcoming the tightness in his throat.

He grabbed a charred timber from one of the many destroyed homes and dragged it towards a pile of rubble. The cold in the air dried the sweat on his brow and left him chilled. Winter was close, and without shelter…. Finding a spark of strength, he heaved the long timber onto the pile and stepped back, before resting his hands on his knees and breathing deeply. His heart was still pained with worry for his daughter. Searching for her, they'd found Rund, but there was no sign of Nasse. With the many and desperate needs of his people, no one could be spared to continue to look. He'd hoped she would return on her own, but it had been days since the disaster and there was still no sign of her.

He closed his eyes. "Please, daughter," his whispered voice had a note of entreaty to it, "if you cannot be with me, then, by the Savior, I pray your fate was the Offering."

"Brantor!"

A voice nearby caught his attention; he looked up in time to see one of his villagers point to the sky.

"Look!"

Brantor turned, his eyes widening as a ship of the Savior flew low over the village. As it passed, a minion of the Savior appeared in one of the cleared areas. The new arrival looked around before walking directly towards Brantor. Immediately, and almost reflexively, Brantor dropped to his knees, his arms crossed over his chest. He glanced to his side, and was relieved to see every Olotian within sight do the same. If he could convince this one that he and his people were still loyal…. He bowed his head, ready to give all he had to win back the Savior's favor.

"Human."

Slowly, Brantor looked up as the Wraith stopped right in front of him. "I live to serve," he responded quietly.

"You have betrayed the Savior," the Wraith snarled. "This," he waved his arm in a circle, "is the retribution."

"I have always been a loyal servant." Brantor's voice rose slightly.

"We do not agree," the Wraith snapped back. "You sheltered those we would call enemies. Traded with them…. Let them corrupt your faith."

Brantor's head dropped as he sat back and hunched his shoulders, before he sank even lower to the ground in prostration. "I did not know," he admitted. "They would have been driven from our world had I known they were enemies. They only wanted access to the Grounds of Our Fathers in exchange for medicines that would help my people." Brantor could feel his body begin to shake as fear crept into him, mixing with desperation. "Please," he whispered, "forgive us." Through the sound of his rapid breaths, he could hear the Wraith hiss quietly.

"You may yet be able to redeem yourself." The Wraith's tone was cold.

Hope flooded through Brantor. "Whatever it is you ask, I will do," he vowed.

"The Off-worlders." The Wraith hissed again angrily. "They may yet return here."

Brantor heard the Wraith step even closer to him but he kept his head bowed.

"Stand," the Wraith ordered.

Slowly, Brantor pulled his legs under himself and stood, but still kept his head bowed and his face averted.

"Look at me."

When Brantor looked up, the Wraith stared him coldly in the eyes. Brantor felt shame. The affront by his people to the Savior and her people was grave indeed. He swallowed hard. "What would you ask of me?"

The Wraith smiled slightly, and held out some sort of circular device. "If the Off-worlders return here, do not let them leave. Take this. Press the center of it, pray for us to come… and we will." The Wraith's smile deepened. "Present us with the Off-worlders and you and all of your people will be redeemed in our eyes… and greatly rewarded."

For a moment, Brantor was conflicted. Because of the Off-worlders, his people had suffered greatly. He'd already vowed to himself that, should they return, they would be driven from his village and from their world if possible. But in front of him was a way to redeem himself and his people in the eyes of the Savior's kind. As a leader, he owed it to those he led to put aside personal vengeance.

He reached out and took the device, and clutched it close to his chest, drawing hope from the feel of it in his hand. "Your will be done," he whispered. "If they return, I swear the Off-worlders will be given to you." He swallowed hard. "We will redeem ourselves in the eyes of the Savior."

The Wraith held his smile and stepped back, before looking up for a moment.

Brantor bowed his head in service for the few seconds it took for the ship to return. In a flash, the Wraith was gone.

Slowly, Brantor pulled his hand away from his chest, opened his fingers. He stared at the circular device. Hope glimmered within him. Within his hand he held the means for redemption for his people and, if fate had chosen the Offering for his daughter, passage to the Highworld for her spirit. He took a deep breath as his gaze intensified. For those two things, he would do anything.

--------------------------------

Elizabeth pushed back from her desk and stood, her gaze unconsciously drawn to the Gate room. Crossing her arms, she stared out the window, trying to ignore her own reflection and the duality it represented. Who was looking back at her? Elizabeth Weir the diplomat, or Elizabeth Weir the expedition leader? Were they different?

Over the past week, since her conversation with John on the Deck, all her senior staff had tried to go on with business as usual, but she could feel the tension in them that she felt within herself.

The tension had redoubled this morning as the Daedalus, on recon to Olot, had reported back that a Hive was in orbit and that there was widespread damage to the planet. The Hive ship had left shortly before the Daedalus returned to its course back to Atlantis, but Colonel Caldwell had made it plain that he wasn't about to risk a confrontation with the Hive in order to look for survivors, a decision Elizabeth couldn't fault him for.

She looked at her watch, noting the briefing to discuss the detailed sensor readings the Daedalus had taken was scheduled to start in ten minutes. Fatigue worked its way into her bones, but she dismissed it. Nothing a good night's sleep wouldn't cure, although lately managing that had been a daunting task to say the least. Her mind calmed slightly: in the past few days, she'd had time for the entire Olot debacle to sink in; while she remained troubled, her perspective had cleared some.

She knew John had had no choice but to kill Eresgal to save Teyla. And one less queen in the galaxy could only be good for them. At the same time, she still wished so much that it hadn't happened. And she still struggled over the morally ambiguous ground of stepping through the Stargate in the first place, something she'd been conflicted over ever since she'd learned of the Stargate program and the grave problems they'd ended up in from the beginning.

Now Nasse, stranded on Atlantis, served as a constant reminder. Given quarters of her own, under guard, the Olotian girl had grown reclusive and unresponsive to anyone who visited her. She longed to return to her people, and every moral fiber in Elizabeth wanted to grant that wish, but at the same time, Elizabeth knew the security of Atlantis and everyone on the base prevented her from doing so. That left Nasse as a prisoner. One with comfortable quarters and as much understanding as they could give her, but a prisoner no less. Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut as she watched another one of her values silently die.

Sighing, she straightened, before turning and heading for the briefing room. As she crossed in front of the Gate room stairs, a quiet voice hailed her.

"Dr. Weir?"

She stopped and, in spite of her dark mood, smiled down at the older Athoisan man who stared up at her warmly from the foot of the stairs. "Kelin," she nodded. "It's good to see you."

Kelin walked up a couple stairs and stopped as he returned the nod. "And you, Dr. Weir." His gaze narrowed slightly. "You are well?"

Elizabeth rubbed one eye. "Just tired. How are Pertus and the children?"

Kelin's smile widened. "Pertus grows fast and strong, as do they all."

Elizabeth nodded. "That's great news. What brings you to Atlantis?"

Kelin cocked his head slightly. "I am to travel with Major Leonard's team to Hanar to broker a trade agreement. I assumed you were made aware of this."

Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment, before nodding. "Yes, I'm sorry. I remember now." She found her smile again. "If I remember correctly, they will only deal with you?"

Kelin smiled in return. "Yes. I have traded most of my life with them. They will not even deal with Teyla, although," he chuckled quietly, "she still tries. If I am there, they will trade fairly with both our peoples."

Elizabeth's gaze narrowed slightly in gratitude. "Thank you." She stared at him a moment longer, as Kelin held her gaze. His eyes almost seemed searching.

Kelin blinked and drew in a shallow breath. "You are welcome." He stepped backwards down one step. "Do not let me keep you. I only wish to speak with John when you are finished with your meeting."

Elizabeth smiled. She knew John would enjoy a visit from the Athosian man. After John's experiences a year ago at the hands of the Wraith, Kelin had been crucial to him dealing with what had happened and getting past it. The two men had enjoyed a close bond ever since. "John will be happy to see you." She waved a hand at Kelin. "Excuse me."

Elizabeth left Kelin and continued on to the conference room. As she entered, she found all of her senior staff seated around the table, waiting quietly for her. Walking behind John's chair to the next empty one, she sat and touched a button on the table. "Let's begin," she suggested as the conference room doors gracefully slid shut. She looked to one side. "Rodney?"

"Right." Rodney grabbed a remote and pointed it at the large display screen in the corner. Abruptly, data started streaming across the Ancient display. He stood and walked over to it. "As you can see from this data, and as we already know from the initial report, Olot appears to have suffered an attack by the Wraith, probably in retribution for the death of Eresgal."

He paused and Elizabeth followed his gaze as it fixed on John, who frowned back at him. Elizabeth stared at John's expression for a moment. Predominant on his face was strong conviction born from doing what he believed was the right thing and not apologizing for it, and yet there was a small hint of guilt as well. He'd been the one who'd killed Eresgal. Granted, it was to save Teyla but he'd still been the one to do it, and now the Olotians were paying for his actions. She'd known him long enough to know that bugged him, even if he'd never speak of it.

Rodney's voice recaptured her attention. "According to the Daedalus sensor logs, the fire was concentrated the most in this area of around a hundred square miles," Rodney waved his hand over a spot on the geographical sensor map. "Brantor's village and several others are located there." Rodney returned to his seat. "Unfortunately, with a Hive around, the Daedalus couldn't get close enough to get more detailed readings."

Elizabeth sighed and stared at the grim data they did have. The Wraith had laid waste to planets before and they'd seen the effects. She didn't need to see the planet to know the surviving Olotians, if there were any, were in dire straits.

"We must help them." Teyla spoke quietly. "Whether or not our actions were correct or incorrect, we are still responsible for the situation the Olotians are now in. We must assist them however we can."

Elizabeth looked across the table at Teyla's resolute expression.

"According to the orbital and rotational readings from the planet," Rodney added, "that area of Olot is about a month past what would be the equivalent of its Autumnal Equinox. They're close to winter and, from what Brantor said, their winters are pretty harsh. Given their geographical location on the northern sector of that continent, I'd say that's a fair assessment."

Still saying nothing, Elizabeth sat back in her chair and folded her hands. Conflicted, she tried to weigh their options. The Olotians were in this situation because of their interference. That brought a certain level of responsibility and accountability that she couldn't deny. They needed help… and wasn't helping people something she and the entire expedition tried to do?

"Elizabeth, we can't just ignore them," John insisted quietly. "We gotta help them."

She looked up and nodded once, silently, at John. He returned the gesture before standing and walking behind her chair and over to the display.

"The Daedalus sensor readings are too vague. We can guess at what the Olotians need, but to really know exactly what we can offer to help them, we need a boots-on-the-ground assessment," he pointed out.

"Are you kidding?" Rodney interjected. "After what we went through last time, you want to go back?"

John didn't even look towards Rodney; his gaze was fixed on the display. "The Wraith left, Rodney. Besides," he finally turned his attention to the doctor, "how were you thinking we'd get the supplies to them in the first place?"

Rodney sat back in his chair. "Well…." He sighed. "Good point."

John looked at Elizabeth. "We can take a Jumper. That way, we won't have to deal with Olot's DHD, and we'll have a bit of firepower and a fast escape if things get sticky. We can land just outside the village and walk in."

Elizabeth leaned forward, folded her hands on the table and dropped her head, more conflict churning within her. Yes, they were there to help, and yes, they were ultimately accountable for what had happened on Olot, but her team's safety was of paramount concern as well. She'd nearly lost them the last time; should they really be tempting fate again?

"After the last, near miss with the Wraith on Olot, I'm not crazy about the idea of you going back, Colonel." She looked up in time to see John retake his seat and stare intently at her.

"I know. But they need our help; you know that. We can't just stand by and do nothing." He arched both his brows slightly at her.

Elizabeth sighed deeply. And yet, people like John Sheppard never sat on the sidelines. He was right and she knew it, even if she hesitated to risk him or anyone else by returning to Olot. After a moment, she nodded silently.

"I'm sure they have injured and sick to care for." Carson finally spoke. "I'd best go with the Colonel's team to assess their medical needs."

Elizabeth folded her hands, her fingers gripping tightly to each other. "Set the mission for 0800 tomorrow morning." She looked up, meeting John's gaze.

He stared at her, his expression understanding, and she knew he knew everything that was running through her head: that she wanted to help, but didn't want to risk him and his team… and that the consequences of their interference was tearing her up inside. He gave her a slight, grim smile and nodded once, before he pushed his chair back and headed for the door, trailing behind the rest of the senior staff.

"John," Elizabeth pulled herself from her brooding and stopped him in his tracks. "Kelin is in the Gate room." His answering grin and nod coaxed a slight smile from her before he resumed his course.

Once he'd gone, Elizabeth stared back down at the sheer finish of the conference room table, her thoughts heavy with conflict. She had no doubt she was doing the right thing here, but had she done all the right things in all the steps that led them to this point? She didn't have an answer, and that, more than anything, troubled her greatly.

--------------------------

A wide smile overcame John's frown as he walked up to the balcony railing outside the conference room and looked down. Speaking with a Gate room SO was one of the few men on John's short list of people that had earned his unwavering respect. "Kelin!" He hailed the Athosian, before heading down the steps two at a time and met his friend at the foot of the stairs. For a moment, he stared eye to eye with Kelin before the Athosian extended his hand. John grasped forearms with him and put his free hand on Kelin's shoulder.

Kelin returned the gesture. "It is good to see you, John." His grip tightened on John's forearm.

"You too," John stepped back and released Kelin's arm. Side by side, they walked towards the Gate. "How's Pertus?"

"Growing." Kelin laughed. "He has chosen the way of the hunter, as have Sorbus and Myella."

John's smile turned fond as he remembered his time with the Athosian children on the mainland the previous year. In their own way, they'd helped him a lot…. He shrugged off the dark thoughts that followed, but not before his smile faded slightly.

"How are you, my friend?" Kelin asked quietly.

John shook his head and arched an eyebrow at Kelin's expression. He knew, without a doubt, that the observant Athosian had caught the slight darkness that had flashed across John's expression. "Nothing ever gets past you, does it?"

Kelin chuckled quietly. "I am only asking a question, John." His gaze turned slightly mischievous.

The Athosian's humor was contagious and John also laughed, before his smile faded slightly. "I'm good," he answered with a nod. He met Kelin's perceptive gaze with a content one of his own, and the Athosian nodded in response.

They stopped on the far side of the Gate room, opposite the conference room. John turned, unconsciously looking up, and did a double take as he make out Elizabeth still seated at the table. Even from that distance, he could see the tension in her shoulders, and how still she was. All the humor left him, rapidly replaced by concern, as he stared intently at her, Kelin momentarily forgotten. He'd seen the circles under her eyes, and the gloom and strife that seemed to follow her, and deep inside, he knew exactly how it felt. Had he noticed, he would've seen Kelin look up and follow his gaze to Elizabeth for a moment. Instead, after a few seconds, he felt Kelin observing him, and he looked at the Athosian.

"What is it, my friend?" Kelin asked quietly.

John looked over his shoulder at a nearby SO and nodded once. He watched as the SO returned the gesture and walked a short distance away, before he looked back to Kelin. "Just worried."

Kelin looked back up at the conference room. "Dr. Weir seems… preoccupied."

"That's an understatement," John muttered.

Kelin looked directly at him. "I know."

John glanced sideways at him and smiled slightly, the expression holding no humor. He turned and walked around behind the Stargate, taking a moment to run his hand over its smooth surface as he passed. Stopping in front of the intricate stained-glass window that arched up the back wall of the Gate room, he heard Kelin come up next to him while he stared down at the neighboring pier and the ocean beyond, both multicolored by the glass. "Kelin,…" he started, before stopping and sighing. "We have nothing like the Wraith on Earth. You know that, I know, but…," his voice trailed off into another sigh.

Kelin turned to face him. "What troubles you, John?"

John shook his head. "Since coming to Pegasus, Elizabeth has had to make a lot of decisions she would've never had to consider if she'd stayed on Earth. Stuff that would've never even occurred to her… things nothing in her training could've prepared her for." He pursed his lips and muttered, "We definitely didn't have a manual when we came here." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "She's feeling the weight of all those choices, especially recently, with what happened on Olot…." He shot a questioning glance at Kelin, who nodded in understanding.

"Teyla has told me of the Olotian… beliefs, and how you saved her life by killing the hive queen." He smiled at John. "Again, the Athosian people are in your debt for saving her."

John chuckled quietly. "She's saved my ass a few times, but my pleasure."

"She is questioning herself?" Kelin asked.

John nodded, knowing the conversation had turned back to Elizabeth. "She's done a damn good job, Kelin," he kept his voice low, "but she doesn't see that. The rules here are different than on Earth, but she's judging herself by those rules, and she doesn't see that…. I can't get her to see that." He sighed in frustration. "It's tearing her up inside." He turned and looked back up at the conference room, not surprised to see Elizabeth still sitting there.

Kelin still stared out the window. "Often those in great emotional strife cannot see the reality that is in front of them."

John blinked hard as the meaning of Kelin's simple statement sunk into him. Slowly, he turned and stared at the Athosian, who, unfazed, continued to look out the window. John shook his head slightly. "Sounds familiar." He watched a slow, knowing smile turn up the sides of Kelin's mouth.

"As it should."

John sighed deeply as his gaze also returned to the city below. "I don't know how to help her, Kelin," he admitted quietly.

Kelin nodded. "Perhaps you cannot."

John's brows furrowed. "I can't just… do nothing," he objected.

Kelin turned and faced John, his expression sincere. "John, every pain we feel is as unique as every person we ever know. Some can help with some pains, others with other pains, but not one pain is the same as another, just as not one person is the same as the next."

John's gaze narrowed as he tried to decipher what Kelin meant. "You're saying I'm not the right person to help her?"

Kelin shrugged slightly. "You may not be, John, as much as you may wish it." He smiled slightly. "Dr. Weir sent you to the mainland last year because she was not the right person to help you, even though she greatly wanted to be. It is possible that you are not the right one to help her."

John sighed loudly and rubbed his brow. "Then who is?" he asked, not quite able to keep the frustration out of his voice.

"Teyla," Kelin answered, his tone confident.

John did a double take and stared questioningly at Kelin. "Teyla? I mean don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem with it, but… Teyla?"

Kelin chuckled quietly. "Teyla Emmagan and Dr. Weir both share a perspective with each other that neither you nor I could ever have with either of them." He turned back towards the window, his gaze growing distant. "Teyla was very young when Tagan was taken by the Wraith. There were many amongst our people that did not believe she was ready to lead. Even Teyla doubted herself." One side of his mouth turned up slightly. "Charin, Torren and I, along with a few others, believed otherwise."

John cocked his head. "Torren?"

Kelin looked at him for a moment. "Teyla's father."

John nodded silently. Teyla never spoke much of her family or her life before Atlantis and he was curious to know more. "Go on," he said.

Something akin of pride showed on Kelin's face. "It was more than her Gift, John. From the moment Teyla was born, she was a leader. I remember her as a child. The other children always looked to her, whether they realized it or not." His smile turned bittersweet. "She is very much like Tagan was." Kelin drew in a deep breath. "She became the leader of our people, whether she was ready or not. She faced many things she was not prepared for… and she made mistakes, though she learned well from them." He nodded to himself. "While not as young as Teyla was, Dr. Weir still suffers from inexperience when it comes to living in the shadow of the Wraith. Teyla could provide just the kind of kinship Dr. Weir needs."

John's gaze narrowed slightly. In Kelin's eyes, he saw the deep and quiet wisdom the Athosian man never seemed to be without. A vague hint of a smile touched the side of John's mouth as he nodded slightly. He looked back out across the city: the thing Elizabeth held dearest to her heart. She'd never mentioned it, but on those rare occasions he'd had a chance to observe her, when she thought no one was watching, he'd seen the fondness as well as the dedication permeate her expression. For the city and its people, she'd do anything, but he couldn't stand by and watch her tear herself up over it either. His jaw clenched as he narrowed his lips into a hard line. As if Kelin read his mind, John felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He looked over at his friend who was also staring at the city below.

"Let go, John. As hard as it is, step back and let her find peace from someone who can give it to her."

John swallowed hard, and let the gesture take all his stubborn resistance with it. He nodded silently.

"Tell me more of the Olotians." Kelin's hand left his shoulder.

John sucked in a deep breath. "Not much to tell. They worship the Wraith." John shook his head. "What a screwed-up galaxy for things like Wraith to become objects of worship," he added bitterly. He winced, realizing the implications of his statement. "Sorry, didn't mean to say everyone in this galaxy was screwed up…," his voice trailed off at Kelin's low chuckle.

"No offense taken, my friend. I understand what you are saying." He cocked his head slightly. "And Nasse?"

John's brows quirked as he turned and faced Kelin. "Teyla told you." His statement lacked any question.

Kelin turned away from the window and towards John. "Does it bother you that she did?"

John shook his head. "No. It's not information we broadcast to everyone, although I think, by now, most of Atlantis knows in some way or another there's a Pegasus native on Atlantis and she's not Athosian." He shrugged. "But Teyla knows we trust you without doubt." He smiled.

Kelin nodded once in recognition, before his expression turned thoughtful for a moment. "Would you be willing to let me speak with her?"

John shrugged. "Teyla's tried a few times. She thinks Nasse listens to her sometimes, but she's the daughter of the village elder who is a devout worshipper…."

"She is conflicted," Kelin nodded, "and understandably so, especially with the circumstances surrounding her betrothed's death."

"Yeah." John nodded. His gaze narrowed as he looked up and watched Elizabeth leave the conference room and cross the Gate room landing before she entered the control room and made a beeline for her office. He followed her every move until she sat behind her desk.

"Does Dr. Weir approve of these conversations?" Kelin asked quietly.

John took a moment to glance back at Kelin, before his gaze again settled on Elizabeth. "She's not crazy about it, but she agrees that the damage has been done. Whatever we can do to help the Olotians get back on their feet…," his voice trailed off with a shake of his head.

"Then I will speak with Nasse as soon as I return from Hanar," Kelin answered.

As if signaled, the rest of Major Leonard's team walked into the Gate room through the east entrance. Wordlessly, John and Kelin joined them.

John acknowledged Leonard. "Major. Good luck."

Leonard nodded back. "Colonel. Thanks. We'll need it."

"You only need know how to talk to Praka." Kelin smiled. "Of course it does not hurt when one has thirty years of friendship to call upon as well."

John chuckled, the grim mood that plagued him momentarily lifting. He turned and waved up at the control room, signaling them to dial, before looking back at Leonard and Kelin. "Have fun."

------------------------------------------

Awareness came to her slowly.

At first, its presence was a tickle in the dark, something that pulled her from oblivion. She moved, pushing against the warm sinew of the cocoon, and took in one, hissing breath, and then another, before she opened her eyes, her gaze finding two males that stared back at her.

Her mind was blank: no memories, no connections to those around her; but her instincts were strong. Knowledge imparted to her at birth supported her innate will to dominate, but memories… not yet…. They would come soon. Pushing against the cocoon. she snarled at its strength, but intuitively knew, no one would help her. She must take control of the ship alone; and, alone, bend it to her will. Only then would she be worthy of them.

Hissing defiantly she reached out with her mind and commanded, without question, for the ship to release her. Snarling again, this time triumphantly, she staggered from the cocoon as the bonds retreated and released her. Again, her gaze found the males and she stared hard at them, challenging them to question her absolute rule. She was young, but power flowed through her, and she could feel it permeate every fiber of her being.

Words were not needed; telepathy was her weapon and she used it. She locked gazes with the first male and opened her mind, smiling predatorily as his memories –a the memories of his Hive… her Hive – flowed through her, filling the void within her.

_A mighty queen: absolute ruler of her Hive; in times of plenty, the ruler of many hives; the minds of lesser queens bent to her will. _

_The Lanteans! She'd been there, one of dozens to lay siege to their mighty city and drive them into submission. The ones she had captured, she had savored: the strength of their defiance was succulent._

_The fall of the Lantean allies. The remnants of their people coerced into submission, even worship. Culling at will: taking those who gave themselves without fight… and taking them whenever it pleased her._

_Feeding… and relishing their fear when they realized their fate was nothing like what they had expected. Although it was nowhere near as sweet as the taste of utter rebellion, it nourished her as she drained their life from them, and her power never diminished. Unchallenged, she preyed upon countless worlds. _

_Waking too soon… diminished food for most, but for her hive she found plenty, and she destroyed any that dared to enter her feeding grounds and contest her dominance. It made her enemies, but she did not care. She was old and powerful. They would not challenge her. _

_The ones that woke them. They were in the Lantean city. Glorious defiance would be tasted again!_

_They killed her…._

_Killed her! Humans! Livestock! Killing such as a queen! Intolerable. They might fight amongst themselves and kill one another, but they were all queens, equals. The insult of losing any of their number to a human was more than any of them were willing to bear… nor would they turn away from this rich, new feeding ground. Billions upon billions in a fertile galaxy somewhere. The insult would be repaid when they found it and feasted for countless generations. _

_But the humans had destroyed themselves and, with them, the way to this rich, feeding ground._

_Or had they? She saw into the mind of the hapless worshipper. Saw the faces of the defiant, heard the hated word uttered._

_Atlantis. _

_Pain had weakened her. If she could have only fed. But his foot had held her hand to the ground while his eyes, full of spite and defiance, had stared back at her…. Then, she had known no more… her reign ended by a human…._

_A Lantean. _

Opening her eyes, her defiant cry echoed around the ship. This hive was hers! Without hesitation, she slammed her hand into the chest of the male, her gaze locking with his and her mind paralyzing him. He fell to his knees but her grip did not waver. She felt his life force flow into her body, renewing her. She savored the strength, knowing she'd need it. For while her predecessor had been a queen beyond contest, she was still young and unproven. Her rivals would descend upon her and if she did not have the strength or advantage, they'd surely destroy her.

She followed the male to the floor, taking every last bit of his life, before pulling her hand away. She stared at the blood on her fingers for a moment, before she stood and hissed once at the other male. "Tell me more," she demanded quietly, "of these new Lanteans… and of our worshippers."

------------------------------------

Teyla stood patiently in the Gate Room as the wormhole flushed into existence. A broad smile graced her face as the form of her childhood mentor appeared through the event horizon. "Kelin." She walked across the room to him.

Kelin returned her smile and lowered his head to touch foreheads with her. "Teyla."

Teyla looked past him at Leonard's team, who carried several wooden crates between them. Her gaze narrowed. "Praka?"

Kelin nodded. "A trade he was reluctant to seal with Leonard's team."

Teyla sighed. "I cannot gain his trust for our people if you do not let me accompany you."

"Teyla." Kelin's gentle but insistent voice compelled her to face him, but what she saw was only a gentle look of understanding. "There are far more important things for you to be doing."

Teyla shook her head, feeling a surge of conflict within her. She was a member of Colonel Sheppard's team not only to help her friends, but because, as a leader of her people, she genuinely believed this was the best way to help them. Still, another part of her recognized that, as their leader, it was she that should be brokering trade and caring for their wellbeing. "That is my responsibility too," she insisted quietly.

If anything, the understanding in Kelin's face intensified. "You cannot do everything yourself, Teyla. You work for the destruction of the Wraith. Above all else, that is most important."

Not entirely convinced, Teyla still nodded and conceded the point to him. "It is good to see you again."

Kelin looked at her for another moment, before apparently deciding to let the matter drop. "And you."

"Kelin." Leonard walked up next to him. "The Athosian trade will be in supply with Sergeant Bale. It'll be marked to take to the mainland the next time anyone makes a trip."

"Thank you, Major." Kelin nodded. He looked back to Teyla. "Come, there is something I wish to discuss with you."

Teyla nodded once. "Of course." She led him from the Gate Room. "I know of the ideal spot." Turning corners, she worked her way through the central tower until she led Kelin onto a large outdoor balcony. "I often come here," she explained. "It faces towards the mainland and allows me to feel close to my people, even when I cannot be with you."

She rested one hand on the cool railing as Kelin leaned on his elbows. "What is it you wish to discuss?"

"Dr. Weir," Kelin said simply.

"Ah." Teyla took a moment to look out across the ocean. To her, the depth of worry in Elizabeth had been very obvious, so it came as no surprise to her that Kelin had noticed the same. "There is much she is trying to deal with right now."

"Yes, John has told me." Kelin turned to face her. "I believe you could help her, Teyla."

Teyla blinked before furrowing her brows. "Me?"

Kelin smiled at her genuine surprise. "Do not underestimate your wisdom, Teyla." He looked back out across the ocean. "You have led our people almost since your coming of age. For you, finding a way to go on in the face of the Wraith is a way of life." His smile faded. "For Dr. Weir, it is not. There is much about… acceptance, about finding the light in a life that is sometimes very dark, that she could learn from you."

Teyla's gaze followed his out over the water as she recalled the countless times she'd had to tell children their parents were gone, find foster families for the orphans, or console a widow. It was something she'd faced as long as she could remember. As she dug deeper into her memories, she saw her mother doing the same, when Teyla had been just a child. The Wraith were horrible creatures that brought unspeakable pain to the humans of this galaxy, but they were also a reality of life that her people had dealt with for generations. Even after countless years, the deaths were never easy, but for people like Elizabeth and the humans from Earth, it was a way of life they had never faced, even in their worst nightmares. What she took as a reality, they struggled to even fathom, much less find a way to deal with it.

Teyla's thoughts lingered on Elizabeth. On top of everything else, she was in a position where she had to make choices for her people… choices that often carried immense weight not only for Atlantis but for the galaxy itself. Teyla lived her life by her own morals, as any decent human did, but sometimes, in fighting the Wraith, the greater good outweighed even one's personal standards. To Elizabeth Weir, that was foreign territory.

She looked over at Kelin, who was patiently letting her ponder his words. After a moment, he returned her gaze with a small smile.

Teyla nodded once. Even after knowing Kelin all of her life, she was still sometimes amazed by his intuition. She had no doubt that everything she'd just realized, he'd already known. "I will do what I can."

Kelin stood up straight and ran a hand over her head in almost a fatherly way. "I knew that you would."

---------------------------------------

John stopped in the doorway to Elizabeth's office. He stared at her a moment. She seemed lost in thought, and he sincerely doubted it was related to anything she was staring at on her laptop screen. "Knock, knock," he said quietly. He smiled as she looked up at him, her answering smile tired and uninspired.

"Come in."

He walked up to her desk and deposited his computer pad in front of her, before easing into the chair close by. He waved at the pad. "Stuff I think we need to take with us to Olot." His gaze narrowed at the dark shadow that seemed to pass over her expression, before she picked up the pad and scanned the display.

After a minute she nodded. "Medical supplies, provisions, blankets…." Setting the pad down she looked up at him. "Looks about right."

"I think it's the least we can do." John's gaze narrowed as she nodded slightly, but he said nothing. There wasn't anything to say that he and she hadn't already hashed out, and they both knew it.

He turned his head as her attention focused on something behind him, and saw Kelin standing silently in the doorway.

"Kelin, please come in," Elizabeth offered.

John watched his Athosian friend for a moment, before smiling. "Everything settled?"

Kelin returned the smile. "Yes. The trade items marked for my people have been set aside to be delivered to the mainland. Your goods have been handed off to your supply officer, Sergeant Bale."

John chuckled. "I still can't believe you and Leonard's team were back here barely an hour after you left."

Kelin held his smile. "As I said, you just have to know how to deal with Praka."

"And have thirty years of history with him," John finished.

"Whatever the reason, thank you, Kelin." Elizabeth nodded once in gratitude.

John's smile faded as he scrutinized Kelin's expression, which gradually switched from ease to thoughtfulness. Instantly, John knew something was on his mind. He'd been friends with Kelin long enough to tell. "What's up?" he asked with certainty. Kelin glanced at him for a moment, his expression vaguely approving before he turned his attention to Elizabeth.

"I wish to go to Olot with your team," he said without preamble.

John turned his gaze away from Kelin and exchanged surprised looks with Elizabeth, before she beat him to the obvious question.

"Why?"

Kelin walked further into her office and stopped next to her desk, midway between her and John. "I believe I may be of assistance with them."

John pursed his lips and looked at Elizabeth. He was pretty sure what her answer would be.

Elizabeth sighed. "I appreciate your offer, Kelin, but we're only returning to Olot to help them with supplies, not to challenge their cultural beliefs."

Kelin's expression turned tolerant. "I did not say I would challenge them, Doctor Weir," he chastised lightly. "I only said I wished to help them, if possible."

Elizabeth blushed slightly. "I'm sorry. I just assumed…."

"No need to apologize, Dr. Weir," Kelin's smile returned. "Your strength in your convictions is one of the things I admire the most about you."

A small, dimpled smile graced her face. She dropped her head and looked at the data pad in front of her. "Thank you."

John fidgeted in his chair slightly. He didn't know what his friend had in mind, but he trusted Kelin implicitly. Whatever Kelin's reason for asking, John had no doubt it was a good one. When Elizabeth finally looked up, he lifted his brows slightly and nodded, silently urging her to agree.

After a moment, Elizabeth nodded back almost imperceptibly. She looked up at Kelin. "That would be fine. Will you stay in the city for the night?"

Kelin smiled. "Yes. It will be good to visit with my friends here."

John stood. "I'll get you some quarters for the night." He followed Kelin from Elizabeth's office.

------------------------

Left alone, Elizabeth watched the retreating backs of Kelin and John as they crossed Ops and disappeared down the back stairs. Her gaze fell, and settled on the pad that John had left with her. Scrolling through the inventory again, Elizabeth was forced to consider the Olotian situation once more. She knew with absolute clarity that they were doing the right thing… at least now. Sighing, she leaned back and folded her hands on her lap, her gaze never leaving the pad, even if she no longer paid any attention to the list on its display.

The lure of Olot, and the potential technology and weapons it could've offered, had been too sweet to pass up. In the slightly more than a year they'd been in Atlantis, they'd survived the Wraith not only by brilliant schemes but by blind luck. Mostly blind luck, if she was honest. Deep down, she knew that luck couldn't last indefinitely. One of these days it would run out, and a scheme would go wrong, and they'd be left to suffer the horrifying consequences.

Elizabeth pushed away the dark thoughts. She'd like to think that everything they'd done had been to help the people of this galaxy, but she couldn't turn away from the fact that, had they not visited Olot, those people wouldn't be in the dire straits they found themselves in now. The fact was that her people visiting them had done more harm than good.

But the potential technology to help not only themselves, but everyone in the galaxy… that had to be considered too. They could always abandon Atlantis and return home, leaving Pegasus to its fate, but was that right? Elizabeth dismissed the idea. They were in a unique position to help every human in this galaxy, and that was something she could not… would not, walk away from.

Conflicted, she closed her eyes and let her head rest against the tall leather back of her chair.

"I am sorry, am I interrupting you?"

Elizabeth opened her eyes and blinked before she made eye contact with Teyla, who stood patiently in the doorway. Elizabeth knew her smile was hollow, but she offered it anyway. "No, not at all. What can I do for you?"

There was a strong hint of understanding, laced with a patient, knowing smile, on Teyla's face. "Nothing. I have come to ask you to join me in the gym. I wish to teach you Karra."

Elizabeth's brows furrowed. "Karra?"

Teyla walked further into Elizabeth's office. "Yes. It is an Athosian art combining stretching and breathing techniques designed to help the body relax and to help one find spiritual peace."

Elizabeth looked down at her laptop, before shaking her head. "I appreciate the offer, Teyla, but I have so much to do…."

"Elizabeth," Teyla interrupted quietly but insistently. "This will not take much of your time and will make you feel better. I believe Karra would help you find some of the relaxation that you need."

"Really, Teyla," Elizabeth insisted, "I'm fine." Truthfully, she felt as stiff as a board, but she'd long ago learned that just came with the territory. She made life or death decisions for her people, and sometimes for all the humans in this galaxy, on a routine basis; she never expected to feel relaxed and gladly made the trade off. Shifting her gaze back to her laptop, she tried to end the conversation the best way she could. But through her peripheral vision, she saw Teyla slowly walk up to her desk.

"I could sense your tension from the walkway, Elizabeth," Teyla insisted quietly, before she reached out and gently closed Elizabeth's laptop. "As your friend, I will not take no for an answer."

Elizabeth looked up and Teyla smiled slightly, but her dark eyes held a deep determination, and Elizabeth knew she wasn't going to get out of this. She sighed deeply. "All right. Let me change clothes. I'll meet you in the gym in fifteen minutes."

Teyla nodded once. "Very well." Without another word she turned and left.

Elizabeth sat there for a moment longer. She had so much work to do but, truthfully, the thought of anything that could relieve just a little bit of her tension sounded inviting. Her mind touched on Simon, and she braced herself against the jab of pain that followed the thought. Simon had always told her she was too intense, usually right before he turned her to jell-o with a deep backrub. Maybe this Karra was what she needed.

-------------------------

Elizabeth stretched her arm straight out from her body and flexed her fingers. The muscles in her bent legs burned slightly, but she took a deep breath, fortifying her strength.

"Very good, Elizabeth," Teyla commented quietly. "The key to Karra is breathing. Each deep breath cleanses you." She straightened, bringing her feet together. "That completes the Roburat."

Elizabeth duplicated her move and took another deep breath, before letting it out softly. As quickly as calmness had found her, it fled, replaced by racing thoughts. She closed her eyes.

"Elizabeth, you must clear your mind," Teyla admonished quietly.

Elizabeth opened her eyes. "How…?"

"There is tension throughout your body," Teyla interrupted gently. She gracefully sank to the floor and, crossing her legs, rested her hands on her knees, palms upward. "Perhaps this will help." She closed her eyes. "We call this pose Sedoa."

Elizabeth sat, mimicking Teyla's pose.

"Focus on your breathing," Teyla whispered. "With each inhale, draw tension inward, and with each exhale, push it from your body. Inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth. Calm your mind and let your spirit find peace."

Elizabeth's gaze fixed on the flickering candles for a moment, before she closed her eyes. She tried to find peace, but it eluded her. There was so much for her to do, so much that needed her attention… and then there was the Olotian debacle….

"Elizabeth, you are not calm."

Elizabeth's eyes snapped open, her gaze fixing on Teyla's tolerant expression. "Is it that obvious?"

Teyla smiled slightly. "Your breathing has all of the calmness of a rampaging beast."

Elizabeth flushed in embarrassment and dropped her head. "I told you I wasn't up to this," she muttered.

"On the contrary," Teyla countered. "You need something like Karra now more than ever."

Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap. "I can't stop thinking about the Olotians," she admitted quietly. Looking up, she saw Teyla nod silently.

"You have done what is best for your people, Elizabeth, and for all the peoples of this galaxy."

"Not the Olotians," Elizabeth countered sharply. She softened her hard gaze and sighed. "Sorry. I don't mean to take this out on you."

"You are not."

Absently, Elizabeth reached up and rubbed the tension in her neck that not even the Karra could relieve. _Well, maybe it would work if I could just focus…._

"Elizabeth."

Teyla's quiet hail pulled Elizabeth from her thoughts. She stared at the Athosian woman and saw nothing but compassion in her eyes.

"As leaders, there is much that we are forced to do, for the good of our people, that can be contrary to our personal needs." Teyla looked away. "Much we must do for the greater good."

Curious, Elizabeth furrowed her brows, but remained silent.

"While we are not exclusively led by women, many of the leaders of my people have been women," Teyla continued, "including my mother." A hint of sadness lined Teyla's expression. "Because of the Wraith, most of what she could have taught me was lost, for she was taken when I was very young. Much of that wisdom was taught to me by Charin."

Elizabeth nodded, still content to remain silent. In the year and a half she'd known Teyla, she'd never learned much about her. Elizabeth knew that Teyla's father, Charin and even Kelin, to some extent, had raised her after her mother was culled, and molded her into the leader of her people, but she knew little else and a part of her was curious.

"There are many amongst my people, Halling included, who believe that women are more suited to lead our people than men. We are the mothers of our race and, as such, have the instincts for it: a mother's compassion, tempered with strength and a strong sense of protection."

"We call it maternal instinct." Elizabeth was fascinated. "Teyla are Athosians matriarchal?" She didn't believe she'd seen evidence of a truly matriarchal society, but from what Teyla was saying….

"No." Teyla smiled. "As John would attest, our people believe in a true sharing of duty and responsibility. In the home, each mate is equal. I only speak of leading our people."

Elizabeth nodded silently, trying to wrap her mind around such a foreign concept. Compared to the Athoisans, societies on Earth were so black and white: traditionally patriarchal or matriarchal, with the former being the most predominant. Even with modern society moving towards equality, the tendencies... the traditions still existed. And yet, somehow, the Athosians had found a way to make it work. _Maybe_, she mused, _struggling to survive against the Wraith pre-empts petty quests for power._ It seemed fighting to live against such a technologically superior threat humbled both sexes. She blinked, forcing herself to accept the concept, no matter how strange it was. She couldn't help but think of how many negotiations she'd brokered that would've been so much easier with a healthy dose of humility on both sides.

"The reason I tell you this," Teyla continued, "is because there are many times when the good of everyone must be put first... even over the good of one's self or one's family." Teyla looked away from Elizabeth. "My mother was taken when I was very young," she repeated softly. "But I remember it." She took a deep breath. "As with most Athosians, the love and dedication to family is paramount, but so is it to the whole community. It must be that way, for only united and closely bonded with each other do we survive the Wraith." Her gaze found Elizabeth's again. "The night my mother was taken, she and I had escaped the hunting camp along with Charin. Our people, including my father, were scattered throughout the woods. We did not know who had been culled or who had escaped. My mother left me hidden, safe with Charin, away from the eyes of the Wraith, and she went back to try to help others reach safety. She never returned."

Elizabeth cocked her head. "I'm sorry."

Teyla's smile was slight and she nodded once. "My mother went against her instincts, her desire to protect her own child and what she held dear, to save her people, because she was their leader, and it was her responsibility." Teyla's gaze intensified. "Elizabeth, sometimes leaders must make decisions that do not serve the purposes of one individual, in order to serve the greater good. As women, we carry a strong instinct for compassion but it is often, as Ronon would say, a double-edged sword. Serving the many sometimes requires us to sacrifice the lives, or even the joys, of the few. But we must find contentment in serving the greater good, whether it is just for our people, or for every person in this galaxy."

"Find the small victories and celebrate them," Elizabeth whispered as she nodded absently, trying to absorb what Teyla was telling her. Her gaze narrowed slightly as she regarded Teyla's thoughtful expression. "This was never about Karra, was it?"

Teyla smiled, a touch of mischief gracing her expression. "The Karra will help you, Elizabeth," she countered, "but I must confess that I did wish to speak with you in private."

Elizabeth arched her brows. "We could've spoken in my office, Teyla…." Her voice trailed off as Teyla shook her head.

"No. I did not want the interruptions… and you did not need them either."

Elizabeth's small smile was slightly sheepish. Teyla had a point. People were constantly coming and going from her office, and if they weren't there in person, they were hailing her on the radio. She would've never had a moment's peace to really focus on what Teyla was saying. _Not that I have any peace right now…._ She took a deep breath and slowly stood. "Thank you, Teyla," she said quietly.

Teyla smiled up at her. "I believe the Karra will help you, Elizabeth, if you learn to embrace it, and I would be happy to help you. It is but one hour a day. Surely you can spare that time?"

Elizabeth paused before responding. Any excuse she had to say no was inadequate, and she knew it… and so did Teyla, who just stared knowingly back at her. Elizabeth always insisted that her senior staff take down time, sometimes even resorting to ordering it, especially with John, and yet something always stopped her from doing the same. All the reasons she used on them – you're burned out, tired, stressed, need the rest – all of them she suddenly saw in herself. As much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn't. In her heart, she craved the tranquility she'd lost. Even if all she could ever muster again would be just a few moments, she longed for them. "I'm burned out," she whispered.

Teyla's brows arched. "This surprises you?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Now that I think about it, no," she admitted. Making up her mind she smiled at Teyla. "Karra sounds good. I think I can find an hour a day."

Teyla stood. "For your health, I think you can too." She lightly squeezed Elizabeth's arm. "No one will begrudge you that time, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth nodded before taking a deep breath and turning towards the door. "My hour is up but," she nodded once at Teyla, "thanks for making me take it." She returned Teyla's smile, before leaving.

---------------------------------------------

Kelin found the girl sitting quietly in the back of her room. She had drawn the drapes and they kept out the bright sunshine, making it seem like she was hiding in the gloom. Her legs were pulled up and her shoulders hunched, her posture embodying emotional shock, even from across the room.

Kelin stopped in his tracks and sighed as he regarded her downcast expression. Her gaze was distant, and he suspected he could have been standing right next to her and she would never have seen him. His sympathy deepened. Her bearing was so recognizable, yet in the years he'd helped children go on with their lives after losing loved ones to the Wraith it had never gotten easier for him to see. This girl's circumstances might be slightly different, but the outcome and the battering on her emotions were the same.

Moving quietly, Kelin crossed the room to her. "Nasse?" He spoke softly.

Slowly, she looked up at him, her cheeks long dried as tears had given way to depression and the strong need to pull everything inside herself and away from everyone.

Kelin gave her a small, gentle smile. There were two ways Athosian children dealt with the loss of loved ones: screaming, hysterical crying or quiet, internalized depression. Nasse seemed to have fallen into the latter… and it was the reaction that always worried Kelin the most. For, while both coping methods were harsh, the latter, with its pent-up grief, poisoned the soul. "I am Kelin, Teyla's friend," he said quietly in answer to her vaguely questioning look.

Without a word, Nasse looked away from him, returning her gaze to an indeterminate point on the bed.

Kelin pulled a chair up close to her bed and sat. "You are Olotian?" His gaze narrowed slightly as a flash of hurt pain briefly broke her expressionless mask. Nodding to himself he continued speaking, knowing that any emotion sparked in the girl was better than none. "I am sorry for what has happened to your people, Nasse."

Her mask cracked ever so slightly. "It is _their_ fault," she said quietly. "They hold me here now."

Kelin cocked his head. "Is it really?" He let the question linger a moment before going on. "The Wraith destroyed your home, Nasse, not these people."

"You speak ill of the Savior's people." Anger abruptly sparked in Nasse. "I have no more words for you."

Kelin took her lashing out in stride, knowing the real cause of her defensiveness was fear and uncertainty. "Is that what Rund believed?"

Nasse's anger dissolved and was replaced by grief. "Rund," she whispered. She swallowed hard. "I only have these people's word that the Savior's people killed him."

The compassionate part of Kelin hated to poke at such fresh wounds, but sometimes you had to clean such wounds for them to heal. "You saw him with your own eyes, child. Do you really believe that another human could have done that?"

Nasse's defensiveness amplified. "I do not know you. I do not wish to speak with you further."

Kelin pressed his lips together at her predictable reply. "Avoiding the truth does not make it change, Nasse."

"Then why am I not allowed to return to my people?" Anger firmly asserted itself on her face and in her voice.

"For your own good," Kelin replied, his mild tone never changing. She was talking and, whether it was in anger or not, it was a step in the right direction. "The Wraith will harm you, maybe kill you, to find out what you know." He leaned forward and looked deep into her eyes. "As well as your people. They will not care who is in their way as long as they can obtain everything you know about this place."

"Why should I care?" Nasse answered bitterly. "To help the Savior will return my people to favor."

"Even if it means sacrificing your life in the process?" Kelin asked. Knowing what her answer would be, he directed the conversation exactly where he wanted it.

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "My soul would travel to the Highworld."

Kelin had already framed his reply and his answer was immediate. "Is that what Rund believed? What you really believe?"

Nasse looked away, unable to answer.

Kelin let the silence linger for a few moments. In spite of his own beliefs, he refused to pass judgment on hers. He stood. "Consider your beliefs carefully, Nasse. Conviction is a powerful and admirable trait, but only when it is not followed blindly." Without another word, he left the girl with her thoughts.

------------------------------

Standing by the door to the jumper bay, John absently checked the clip on his P-90. He looked up and saw Kelin round the corner of the long hallway and walk towards him. Dropping the P-90, letting it hang from his vest, John smiled at his Athosian friend. "Kelin. Thought you might not show," he teased. "Rest of the team is in the Jumper."

Kelin returned the smile. "I was speaking with Nasse."

The humor fled John's face as he thoughts about the Olotian girl. "How is she?"

Kelin seemed to consider his question for a moment before answering. "Grieving," he answered softly. "Scared and uncertain of her future."

John looked away, his sympathy for the girl deepening. Nothing about Nasse's situation, or the actions he'd been forced to take, pleased him in the least. In fact, the entire ordeal left him with bitter guilt. "I bet," he muttered. Silence dragged on, and he could feel Kelin's gaze on him. Finally, John looked up at his friend.

"What will you do with her?" Kelin asked simply.

John sighed loudly. "Honestly? I have no idea." He shook his head. "She can't go back to Olot…."

"Why?" Kelin interrupted.

John stared at him for a moment, mildly surprised. "Surprised you need to ask. She knows too much about Atlantis. We can't risk her falling into the Wraith's hands and them discovering that we didn't destroy the city."

Kelin nodded. "Returning her to her people would be a considerable risk…," his voice trailed off.

John pursed his lips and resigned himself to hearing what he knew Kelin would find a way to tell him anyway. "But?"

Kelin's eyes narrowed in intensity. "Do you have a right to hold her against her will?"

John scratched the back of his head in irritation before he shook his head. "I don't know," he conceded bitterly. "Any other time, I'd say: hell, no. But with Atlantis' safety and the safety of everyone on this base in the balance, not to mention what Atlantis represents for all the humans in this galaxy…." His hand dropped hard to his side in frustration. "What a damned mess."

Kelin nodded. "I will not argue that point with you, my friend."

John took a deep breath and then another. After a long moment, he fixed narrowed eyes on Kelin. "What would you do?" It was a question he rarely asked of anyone, but Kelin was one of the few people who had his unwavering respect.

Kelin's small smile returned. "This is not a decision that I can make for your people, John." He paused, seeming to collect his thoughts, before continuing, "There are many times when the greater good forces us to make decisions we would have never considered before. But these decisions cannot be taken lightly. If you do so, then doing something for the greater good becomes an excuse instead of a solution. When that happens, the greater good is no longer being served."

John stared at him for a moment. Like with so many of Kelin's statements, it took him a minute to grasp exactly what his friend was saying. "In other words," he surmised, "don't make the choice lightly, whatever it turns out to be."

Kelin nodded. "Yes," he answered simply.

John sucked in a deep breath, turned, and waved his hand over the door crystal. As the door to the jumper bay opened, he looked back at his friend. "I'll think about it." Without another word, he walked to the waiting team.

-------------------------

"This is how we should've done it the first time," Rodney mumbled as he stared at the Jumper's HUD. "Walking around alien planets is highly overrated."

John silently rolled his eyes as he stared out the windshield at the rapidly passing grasslands. He had to admit that knowing they had the Jumper for defense and that they wouldn't have to rely on Olot's DHD did bring a certain amount of comfort to him…. Not that he'd admit that to McKay.

"There is much to be said for experiencing the unique flavor of different planets, Dr. McKay," Kelin commented quietly.

"I'll take that flavor from here, thank you very much," Rodney answered immediately.

"That explains much about you." Kelin's tone was neutral.

"Yes, well I'm not…,"Rodney stiffened in his chair. "Wait," he swiveled around and faced Kelin. "What did you mean by that?"

John swallowed a chuckle. He could visualize Kelin's detached and quiet gaze without even turning to look at his friend.

"All that matters is what you believe I meant, Doctor," Kelin answered patiently.

From the corner of his eye, John watched Rodney turn his chair forward again and fix his gaze on the HUD.

"Great, just what we need on this mission," Rodney grumbled. "The Pegasus version of the Dalai Lama."

John frowned and glanced at him. "McKay." His expression contained a slight rebuke, and after a few seconds, Rodney gave his attention back to the HUD.

"Fine."

John stared at him a moment longer before returning his gaze forward. Rodney made it a habit of toeing the line between snark and disrespect; occasionally, like now, he crossed it. Kelin had done so much for John, and for the whole expedition, that John wasn't about to listen to Rodney criticize him.

"Coming up on the village," Rodney gestured at a slowly blinking dot on the HUD.

"Copy that." John throttled back on the Jumper and slowly descended. Though cloaked, he still didn't think it was a good idea to land within visual range of the Olotian village. With a gentle bump, the Jumper settled on the ground. "We'll walk from here." He raised his hand at Rodney. "Not a word."

"Did I look like I was going to say something?" Rodney retorted.

John's expression turned cynical. "Yes." He tuned out Rodney's grumbling as he flipped the hatch release switch, grabbed his P-90, and walked to the back of the Jumper. He looked up at Ronon standing next to him. "Keep your eyes open."

Ronon nodded once. "Not so sure about this, Sheppard."

John sighed quietly. "I know, but we're responsible for the Olotians' situation. We have to at least see if we can help them." John wasn't sure if the big Satedan agreed with him or not, and Ronon's non-committal grunt didn't help any. "We'll make contact, then bring in the supplies later."

"Do you think there will be a problem?" Kelin walked up to John and paused opposite Ronon.

John grimaced. "I don't know." He shook his head slightly. "Something doesn't sit right with me. Just a gut feeling, that's all."

"Then we should proceed with caution," Kelin answered. "Instinct should never be taken lightly."

"You don't think they'd try to hurt us, do you?" Carson's voice held a note of disbelief.

"We were responsible for the Wraith laying waste to their homes, Carson." Teyla spoke quietly. "There is no way to know for sure how they will react to us."

"All the more reason to take the Jumper and not walk," Rodney added.

John shook his head. "More than likely, Wraith Darts flew sorties through here, destroying their village in the process. The last thing the Olotians will want to see is another flying ship descending on them. No," he affirmed to himself, "we go in on foot in the least threatening way possible." He looked back at his team. "That said, stay sharp." He nodded once at Ronon. "Take the six." Turning back towards the lowered hatch, he lifted his P-90 slightly and walked down the ramp, his team following behind.

"Great," Rodney groused quietly. "Just the kind of mission I always wanted to go on; full of unknowns, any one of which could get us killed."

John's frown deepened. Secretly, he agreed with Rodney. Pushing away the negative thoughts, he briskly led his team towards the Olotian village.

---------------

At first, Brantor couldn't believe his eyes. After what had happened, he'd been almost sure they'd never see the strange Off-worlders again. Only a small glimmer of hope had stayed with him, a small note of optimism that he could somehow make amends with the Savior's people for the transgressions he and his village had committed. But there, walking confidently towards him, were the same Off-worlders that had condemned his people to the misery they suffered for now.

Brantor stood rock still, his gaze never leaving them, as his hand slowly entered his pocket and embraced the device within. It's cool surface comforted him. At last, he would set things right.

------------------

Her power grew significantly by the hour… exponentially by the day. Already so much more then she was when awareness first found her, she knew she could still be even greater. Settling deeper in her throne, she closed her eyes, letting her thoughts reach out… touching the minds close to hers. Those that served her, obeyed her rules… they would do her bidding and gladly she would order them, for it was in her nature to do so. She was Queen and unquestioned ruler. But she pushed her mind further, reaching past her Hive to another that was close by. One that would dare venture into her feeding grounds. Queen-less, weak… and yet they dared.

Her eyes snapped open and she hissed. How quickly they had learned of her predecessor's death. How quickly they had come to challenge one so young. But ages of wisdom and power had been bestowed upon her and she acted on it. Silently, she commanded an attack and felt the ship respond.

She pushed herself out of her throne and quickly moved through the ship, reaching the command deck in time to watch several shots from her Hive mortally wound her opponent's. Her expression eager, she looked at the male who controlled weapons, and ordered him to cease fire. The enemy Hive was severely damaged and drifting and with a jerk of her head, she sent a force of soldiers to bring her prisoners. Her enemies would know who vanquished them… and she would savor the taste of their defeat.

Before her forces could leave the hive, another signal caught her attention. Halting the boarding party, she stared at the readout scrolling across the screen, realizing its significance.

_The __Lanteans_! She snarled loudly and, her gaze never leaving the wounded hive, ordered the final shots on her doomed rival. She watched as it was consumed in a blinding explosion.

Then, without hesitation, the Hive powered away from the wreckage and disappeared into hyperspace.

------------------------------------------------

John pressed his lips tightly together as he took in the scene of destruction around them. Very few buildings in the village had been left intact, and none were undamaged. He exhaled quietly, noting the fog of breath around his face. The air was cold, with a strong, icy wind buffering his back. Winter was close; without shelter and help, these Olotians would never survive it.

Not far ahead, a group of Olotians worked over a pile of rubble. John recognized Brantor among them.

"My God," Carson muttered. "They can't possibly still worship the Wraith after this."

"I would not be too quick to make that assumption, Doctor," Kelin answered. "Belief, in any form, is a strong force to be reckoned with."

"Brainwashing is more accurate," Rodney interjected.

"Call it what you will," Kelin tilted his head towards Rodney, "but the effect is the same. I would not take for granted that the Olotians have changed their minds."

"Good advice." John glanced back before returning his attention forward as they walked directly towards Brantor. He stopped a fair distance from the Olotian leader and stood motionless, trying to judge the man's mood, but Brantor was hard to read. He was stiff backed and silent as he stared at them.

"Sheppard." Ronon's warning was quiet.

"Hold on." John's voice was curt. "Let's give this a chance." He'd never really raised his gun, but he still lowered it further, until it faced the ground. He gestured at Teyla to do the same before he glanced sideways at Ronon, his head never turning away from Brantor. "Keep it holstered," he ordered quietly.

Ronon looked none too pleased with John's decision, but he grudgingly complied, and John refocused his attention on the Olotian leader. Brantor still hadn't moved and that did nothing to bolster John's confidence any.

"Brantor?" He called out the elder's name cautiously, his grip never loosening on his P-90. "We came to see if we can help you." A tense silence lingered between them for another moment before Brantor slowly walked towards John.

"Sheppard…." Ronon growled.

"Ronon, holstered," John snapped quietly. "I mean it." He stared hard at Brantor as the man stopped before him, his gaze narrowing. Brantor looked exhausted both physically and spiritually, and John resisted the temptation to reach out and steady him as he swayed slightly.

"You can… help us?" Brantor voice was shaky.

Carson moved around Teyla. "Aye we can…." His voice trailed off as John reached out, stopping him from approaching the Olotian.

John's gaze never left Brantor. "Only if you want us to," he answered. "We'll leave if you want, but you need help… and we can give it."

"The Savior…," Brantor started, before his voice trailed off.

"To die would weaken your Offering," Kelin answered, as he stepped up shoulder to shoulder with John. "These people helped mine in a time of great need, and they can do the same for you, if you let them," he reasoned.

After a moment, Brantor closed his eyes and his shoulders sagged. "Please…."

John's brow furrowed in sympathy, and he lowered his arm and let Carson go to Brantor.

"Easy now." Carson held Brantor's arm. "We'll help ye."

John sighed. "Teyla, stay with Carson and help him assess the Olotians' medical needs. McKay, do an engineering analysis of the village and figure out what at what we'll need to get some structures up here. Take Ronon with you. Kelin, you and I will go back to the Jumper and grab the supplies. Brantor, we'll need some of your people to help with that. Then we'll fill in where we can."

Brantor waved at some of his men, before reaching out and grabbing John's arm. "Nasse? Have you seen her?"

John smiled thinly. "She's safe back with our people." He stared intently into Brantor's eyes. "She's safe," he repeated. His gaze narrowed slightly as what he could only call anger briefly flashed across Brantor's face before it disappeared behind a weary grimace.

"Then she did not pass on to the Highworld," he muttered. "Instead, she is with you…"

"We did not harm her." Teyla spoke softly. "I assure you, she is well."

"Then why is she not here?" Brantor asked, suspicion flaring in his eyes.

John didn't like the expression he saw on the Olotian leader's face, nor did he like the direction this conversation was going. "It's… complicated. Look, we're not the bad guys here. We came back to help you… just like we helped Kelin and Teyla's people." He nodded his head towards Kelin.

"That queen killed Rund. Would've killed Nasse too." Ronon added darkly.

Anger flashed in Brantor's eyes. "You speak of the Savior!" he spat.

"Okay, hold on," John shot a warning glare at Ronon. "Right now, your people's needs are more important than a spiritual debate, wouldn't you say?" John fixed Brantor with a stern look.

Brantor seemed to struggle for a moment, before he abruptly bowed his head and nodded. He looked at Carson. "We have some who are gravely ill and injured from the Savior's retribution."

Carson shot John a questioning look.

John nodded, watching for a moment as Carson walked away with Brantor. He exchanged wary glances with Teyla. "Keep in touch. Check in every fifteen minutes."

Teyla nodded silently and strode off after Carson and Brantor.

John turned to Ronon and McKay. "You too." He watched them follow behind Teyla, frowning. He knew they were doing the right thing but very little of this sat right with him. He trusted his people to be alert, and to be able to take care of themselves, but, in the circumstances, splitting them up and sending them off on their own didn't feel right, even though he knew it was the best way to proceed. Though clearly weak, Brantor still looked at them with suspicion and, John swore, a note of hate as well. Fatigue, stress and sorrow were one thing, and were bound to influence a man, but the flash of anger he'd seen on Brantor's face for that one moment, and then how quickly he'd backed down, set off all kinds of alarms within John.

John's lips tightened. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and he knew it. His own honor and sense of morality compelled him to do what they could to help the Olotians, and yet, he couldn't help but think the proverbial 'other shoe' was going to drop on his head any second.

"John?"

John's gaze never left Teyla's retreating back, in spite of Kelin's quiet inquiry. "Yeah?"

"You are doing the right thing," Kelin said softly.

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions…." John's voice trailed off. He glanced at Kelin and saw his questioning look. "Something my grandmother used to say." He shook his head slightly. "Never mind. What I mean is that our intent doesn't really matter here. What matters is what Brantor thinks. Right now, I don't trust him one bit. There's something…." John shrugged and looked sideways at Kelin. "Cynical I guess."

Kelin's smile was more relaxed then John would have expected. "Dr. McKay is a cynic. You, however, are not. You are experienced, and you care about the wellbeing of your people. You have every right to be cautious here." Kelin's smile faded. "Brantor is hiding something."

"Yeah," John agreed quietly. "The sooner we get things assessed, help these people, and get the hell out of here, the better I'll feel." He drew in a deep breath and waved over a group of Olotians. They followed him as he turned and headed back towards the Jumper, Kelin right beside him.

-------------------------------

Brantor stood silently in the corner of one of the few buildings still standing, watching as the Offworlder's doctor walked amongst his injured people. Quietly, he seethed in anger. His people suffered because of their actions, yet they had the gall to come back. Whatever help they might render was little recompense for what they had done to him and his people… to his daughter.

Still, he'd accepted their help, outwardly appearing desperate: broken and weak. There had been no other way to delay them and keep them here until the Savior's people arrived. If he had declined their help, they would have left, and he would have lost his chance to redeem his people to the Savior.

Inwardly, he held tightly to his beliefs and drew strength from them. Every second the Offworlders were in his village was an affront to all he believed in Yet his dedication to the Savior ran deep; there was much personal insult he would bear in the name of serving Her; much rage he would hide lest he alert them to their peril before it was too late.

His hand, which had scarcely left his pocket since their arrival, held tightly to the device given to him by the Savior's people. Silently, he sent a prayer to the Savior –not the first since their arrival – pleading with her to come to them, to see that his people were still loyal… and to redeem the soul of his daughter.

His thoughts turned to Nasse and sorrow broke his heart. Because of the Offworlders, she had strayed from the righteous path and into darkness. Inwardly, he wept for her soul. He'd always been proud of her as he watched her grow into strong follower of their way: one who would pass that belief on to a new generation, or reach the Highworld, whichever fate the Savior chose for her. Now? She lived amongst the disbelievers, dishonored, her future bleak.

His gaze briefly found the woman, Teyla, the one that so convincingly radiated spiritual awareness, yet she walked the same dark path as the others. Her deception –a deception he had fallen for – cut him deeply. Inwardly he raged and wept for the souls of his people, but for none more than his daughter.

His cheek twitched in barely controlled anger. The Savior would come for these Offworlders, and gladly he'd hand them over to her. Then, his soul would be cleansed, and his future and the future of his daughter assured. His brow furrowed as Teyla's communication device activated and Sheppard's voice sounded.

"Teyla this is Sheppard. Rodney's assessed the engineering needs. You two about done?"

Brantor's gaze flicked to the doctor who looked up and nodded. He looked back to the woman, who activated her communication device.

"Yes, Colonel. We are almost finished here. We will meet you in the village center in five minutes. Teyla, out."

Brantor's anger was replaced with a feeling of dread. He'd done what the Savior's people had instructed him to do, but his chance to redeem himself and his people was slipping away. If they left now, the Savior would see nothing but betrayal. His devotion, no matter how true, would never be re-proven.

He hid his near panicked feelings behind a neutral mask as Teyla walked over to him.

She smiled thinly. "We must return to our home now, but we will be back with more supplies to help your people very soon."

Brantor managed to nod as his mind raced. Alone, he could not stop them from leaving. He had to get away from her to rally his people, quietly but quickly. "I must…" he inhaled deeply, "I must see to the needs of my people." He took a step back and nodded at her. "Excuse me."

Turning away, he could feel her eyes on his back, and her confusion over his peculiar behavior, but he ignored it. He headed straight for the side door and left the makeshift sickroom.

-------------

Teyla felt Carson walk up next to her, but she kept her sights trained on the side door Brantor had gone through. Her instincts whispered a warning. Something was different… not right. From the moment they had arrived, Brantor had been understandably distant, only accepting their help because he had no choice. But his demeanor had suddenly changed. He'd tried to hide it, but she could see the carefully concealed fear in his eyes.

"Teyla? What is it, love?"

She sighed and looked at Carson. "There is something that is… not right."

His easy-going expression darkened. "But, you don't know what?"

She shook her head. "No. It is only a feeling but…," her voice trailed off as she shook her head again.

"Aye, but I've learned to listen to your feelings, lass." Carson smiled at her. "Let's, ahh… find the others?"

Unable to shake the unease within her, Teyla nodded and headed towards the exit, Carson right behind her.

The moment she stepped through the door, she knew they were in trouble. She instantly brought her weapon to bear as the air around her shifted. Three Olotians appeared seemingly from nowhere. Before she could react, one of them grabbed Carson from behind and lifted a crude looking knife to his throat. The other two pointed rough but still deadly farm tools at her.

Teyla stared coldly over the top of her P-90 at Carson's captor. "Let him go," she ordered firmly.

"We cannot do that."

Never turning her head away from Carson, Teyla's gaze flicked left, following the voice to Brantor, who stepped out from the shadows.

"We do not wish to hurt him, but we will if we must." Brantor stared hard at her. "Drop your weapons."

Teyla held fast to her gun. "Why are you doing this? Can you not see that we are trying to help you?"

"Help us?" Brantor scoffed. "You, who brought the wrath of the Savior down upon us? Who caused her to doubt our loyalty and our dedication? I think not."

Teyla's gaze narrowed. "They why did you not ask us to leave from the moment we arrived?" She resisted the urge to turn and look at him as silence greeted her question. She did, though, glance his way and noted his guarded expression.

"Drop your weapons, or he dies," Brantor answered flatly.

Her gaze settled on Carson's face, watching, as he furrowed his brows in barely concealed fear. Sighing, she realized there was no choice in the matter. Slowly, she lowered her gun, crouched and placed it on the ground in front of her. Her nine mil and knife followed. She straightened, her arms hanging loosely at her sides as she stared at Brantor. "Why are you doing this?"

"Back away," he ordered.

She took two steps back and stopped, resisting the urge to fight as one of the Olotians grabbed her and tied her hands behind her back with what felt like rough-spun rope. She tried to look reassuring, as Carson stared at her while another Olotian tied his hands as well. No sooner were her hands secured than her radio crackled.

"Teyla, this is Sheppard. What's your ETA?"

She pursed her lips, hoping her silence would alert the colonel. The chance was good, as he was very adamant about his people staying in touch whenever they were off world. Teyla sighed quietly, hoping he'd realize there was danger.

----------------------

John resisted the urge to tap his foot as he looked around for Teyla and Carson. Frowning, he glanced at Ronon before activating his radio headset. "Teyla, this is Sheppard. What's your ETA?" His frown deepened as silence greeted his hail. "Teyla, respond." Quietly, an alarm started to sound inside him.

"That is not normal for Teyla," Kelin muttered.

"No," John whispered back, "it's not." He turned and made eye contact with Rodney, who stood a short distance away. Subtly tipping his head backwards, he silently ordered Rodney to close ranks.

Rodney's nod was almost imperceptible as he walked over to them.

"Beckett, do you copy?" John tried reaching the doctor. His internal alarm became more insistent as Carson failed to answer as well.

"Sheppard…," Ronon started.

"Yeah." John's grip tightened on his P-90, but he kept the weapon lowered. "Let's go find them." He'd taken no more than five steps before a group of at least twenty Olotians appeared from behind the wreckage of a half-destroyed building. John froze, stiffening and instantly raising his P-90, as his eyes scanned the threatening group. Their weapons were crude – pitchforks, axes and other farm tools – but John had no doubt of the conviction of each man wielding them. He heard the others beside him draw weapons as well, but he kept his attention centered on the Olotians. "Hold your fire," he muttered.

"Drop your weapons," one Olotian insisted, shaking his pitchfork for good measure.

John's expression turned slightly cynical. "Don't think so."

"Oh no."

Rodney's quiet voice grabbed John's attention. He turned slightly and his eyes widened as cold anger spawned within him. Swinging round, he refocused his aim on the Olotian holding a knife to Teyla's throat. "Teyla? You all right?"

"I am fine," she responded. "They… left me no choice but to surrender."

As if her statement was a cue, Brantor and another Olotian, this one holding a knife to Carson's throat, stepped out from behind some rubble.

"Damn it," John cursed quietly. He glared at Brantor. "What do you want?"

"Your surrender," Brantor answered immediately. "Do so now, or your friends die."

"Let them go now, or I'll kill you," Ronon growled, but Brantor shook his head, a moment of serenity crossing his determined expression.

"I am doing the Savior's bidding. If you kill me, I will pass to the Highworld, but your friends will still die. Brantor stared evenly back. "That much is your choice, of course."

John bit his tongue. Part of him wanted to pull the rug out from under Brantor and tell him Eresgal was dead, but he resisted the urge. There was no way of knowing how the Olotian would react to that news; with two of his people being held at knifepoint, John wasn't about to risk it.

"Great," Rodney muttered. "Fanatics not afraid of death. I swear, if we get out of this alive, I'm never setting foot on this god-forsaken planet again."

Silently, John agreed. At this point, he was content to let these damn lunatics figure out a way to save themselves, but he pushed aside his anger and focused on the situation. "We're trying to help you, why are you doing this?"

"He would not answer me when I asked, Colonel," Teyla replied.

"I owe you no explanation," Brantor answered. "This is your last chance. You may kill every one of us in a fight, but it will not be before these two die. All that awaits them is oblivion, while we will pass to the Highworld." Brantor lifted his chin in confidence. "We have nothing to lose. You, however, do."

John ground his teeth as he glared at Brantor. Behind him, he heard Kelin inch closer.

"John, I do not doubt their conviction in this matter," Kelin murmured.

An angry twitch crossed John's face, but he said nothing. He knew Kelin was right; he'd reached the same conclusion himself. That didn't mean he liked it. He glanced at Ronon and nodded, before he slowly lowered his P-90 and set it on the ground, along with his nine mil and knife. Straightening, he watched the rest of his team disarm.

The Olotians moved in closer, and a few of them quickly bound the team's hands behind their backs. Brantor walked up and stood face to face with John, who glared back. "So, what now?"

Brantor's small smile was still triumphant. "That is not for me to decide. The Savior will choose your fate," his smile faded, replaced with anger, "and I do not believe she will be kind."

"He's called the Wraith?" Rodney's voice cracked slightly in panic.

Brantor withdrew something from his pocket and John saw it was a Wraith transmitter. The Olotian smiled. "The Savior has given us a chance to redeem ourselves. With this holy device, I have prayed for her return… and I know she will answer."

John stared intently at the silently blinking light on the communication device. "Damn," he muttered.

"Praying? You've got to be kidding me," Rodney exclaimed. "Of all the… it's a subspace communication device! Praying has nothing to do with it!"

"I will not listen to the words of a non-believer," Brantor answered shortly.

John turned his narrowed gaze back to Brantor. At this point, they had nothing to lose and everything to gain, so he played his ace. "Eresgal's dead," he said without preamble. "I killed her."

Brantor's face turned red with rage. "You lie! The Savior is immortal!"

"Well no, not really," Rodney interjected. "Long lived? Yes, immortal? No."

"Disbelievers!" Brantor shouted. "We have no reason to believe your deception! You only wish to lead more of my people astray, away from the path to the Highworld, just as you have my daughter!" He backed away. "I will hear no more of your lies!"

"Lies?" John interrupted Brantor's tirade. "I can take you to her body and prove it!"

"No!" Brantor waved at several of his men. "Take them and confine them until the Savior's people come for them. I will hear no more of this."

An Olotian man pulled roughly on John's arm. He staggered before regaining his balance and allowing himself to be turned and marched towards a partially burned out building. The charred frame and walls still stood but the roof was nearly gone. "Well, that went well," he observed cynically as his team stumbled along.

"Oh yeah," Rodney muttered. "Remind me never to recommend you for diplomatic service."

As they entered the building, one of the Olotians pushed Carson up against the wall and held a knife to his throat, while another stared John in the eyes.

"Each of you will be untied one at a time, and then your hands re-tied and bound to that." He pointed up at a solid crossbeam just above their heads. "If any of you resist, or try to escape, you may succeed, but your companion," he gestured at Carson, "will be killed without hesitation."

John glared coldly back at him, but said nothing. He didn't need to. They wouldn't do anything to get Carson killed, and the Olotians seemed to know that. He glanced at Ronon, who nodded almost imperceptibly. They'd get another chance to escape; they just had to bide their time. John sent a reassuring look towards Carson.

Looking slightly guilty, Carson stared back at him.

One by one, each of them was untied, their hands bound firmly together again in front of them, and a second rope tied to their hands and thrown over the crossbeam. Then they were hauled up until their feet were barely touching the ground. Carson was treated in the same way once the others were secured. Then, the Olotians left.

"Well, this is pleasant," Rodney snarked as he shifted a little, his motion causing him to sway slightly.

John wriggled his hands, ignoring the stinging pain in his wrists from the rope. "Is everyone tied as tightly as I am?" He sighed in frustration at the tight bonds.

"If you mean, can I get my hands free? No, I can't." Rodney snapped.

"I'll take that as a yes," John muttered. He took a deep breath, forced away his anger, and focused on escape. They had no way of knowing when Brantor had activated the Wraith transmitter, but if John were a betting man, he would've put it all on the table that it was the moment they'd arrived in the village. While they had no idea where the hive had been when it received Brantor's transmission, chances were pretty good it was in the local sector… which meant the Wraith could show up at any time. They had to get away… now.

Motion from the corner of his eye caught his attention, and John did a double take as he watched Teyla hike herself up slightly to grab onto her rope. She kicked her legs, swinging sideways. "Teyla? What are you doing?"

"I am attempting…," she grunted quietly as she swung her legs again, "to gain enough momentum… to climb up onto the beam." With another decisive kick, she managed to catch the heel of her boot on the beam.

John arched a brow slightly as her graceful flexibility, combined with considerable strength, allowed her to pull her body up onto the beam.

"Well done, Teyla." Kelin smiled, his expression proud.

"How the hell did you do that?" Rodney's voice was astonished.

"Never mind," John interrupted. He winced slightly as he watched her push with her legs, while she slid her arms across the rough wood. With her hands tightly bound, she had little room for movement, but the splinters she had to be getting, didn't seem to deter her one bit.

"Ronon," she panted slightly, "do you have a knife?"

"Oh sure," Rodney snapped. "Just like I'm sure he has a gun in his pants!"

John's gaze narrowed as a slight smile turned up the corner of Ronon's mouth.

"Left vambrace," he answered.

In spite of the situation, John chuckled quietly. He hadn't known Ronon long, but somehow the Satedan's answer didn't surprise him. "Convenient."

Ronon turned and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Never leave home without it."

John shook his head. "You've been watching too much recorded TV."

"Best hurry before our friends return." Carson was watching Teyla edge along the beam towards Ronon, slowly shifting her rope along with her.

John squirmed a little, still trying to work his hands free. "They know how to tie ropes."

Pressing herself flat against the beam, Teyla managed to work a couple fingers into Ronon's vambrace. "I have it," she said to no one in particular as she slowly withdrew a small knife. Carefully turning her hands, she began working on Ronon's ropes. "I will free you first, Ronon."

"Fine with me," Ronon answered as he twisted his wrists and grunted, trying to pull apart the rapidly fraying rope as Teyla continued cutting. Suddenly the rope broke, and Ronon pulled his hands apart. He stepped back as Teyla dropped the knife, and then retrieved it from the floor.

"Nice!" John whispered emphatically.

Wasting no time, Ronon stepped behind the beam and quickly cut the ropes suspending each of them off the ground.

As John's feet touched down, he kept twisting his wrists, trying to loosen his bonds.

Freed of the twist of rope tying her to the beam, Teyla sat up, swung her legs over to one side and nimbly jumped down.

John paused in his struggles for a moment to spare her an openly approving look. "Good job."

Teyla returned his smile and added a nod before holding her hands out for Ronon to cut her bonds.

It didn't take long before all of them were free, but footsteps outside and moving closer caught John's attention. Flattening himself against the wall he motioned for his team to do the same. When a single Olotian walked into the building, a strong right cross from John silenced him before he could raise the alarm. But another Olotian outside the doorway turned and ran, shouting for Brantor at the top of his lungs.

"Damn it!" John cursed loudly as he looked out of the door and saw other Olotians taking up the cry… and any weapons they could find. "We have to get to the Jumper." He ducked back around the corner, concealing himself in the building… not that it would do much good at this point anyway.

"Hello? No remotes! How do you plan on opening it?" Rodney pointed out. He peeked past John at the Olotians gathering weapons and coming their way. "Somehow, I don't think we have the time to find our gear," he added crossly.

"Can't you hotwire it or something?" John bit back his frustration.

"Right!" Rodney snapped, "hotwire something I can't see… and with my bare hands and no equipment, no less! While I'm at it, why don't I just levitate everyone and whisk us away to the gate on a wing and a prayer?"

John spared a half second to send a scathing look his direction. "Okay! I get it!" He looked around at his team. "Split up. Teyla you're with Rodney. Ronon, go with Carson. Kelin you're with me. Head for the gate. Hopefully splitting up will thin the pursuit some."

"We don't have any radios or GDOs!" Rodney shot back. "What exactly are we going to do when we get to the gate?"

"We're close to being overdue. No way will any of us get back to the gate in time for Elizabeth to call, even if we did have radios. Elizabeth will send a team when she doesn't get a check-in from us, and I want at least one of us there to meet them! And if all else fails, figure something out!" John watched as a group of Olotians ran towards them. "GO!" he roared, and took off at a dead run, Kelin right beside him.

As he risked a glance over his shoulder, he saw the rest of his team scatter and run in different directions. Cursing under his breath at the necessity of splitting up, he headed for the tree line, a group of Olotians hot on their heels.

-----------------------------------------

_Not again…_

Elizabeth dropped her stylus and pushed away from her desk. Walking briskly, she crossed the bridge between her office and ops, making a beeline for her gate technician. "No word from Colonel Sheppard's team?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

The technician, Chuck, looked up. "No, ma'am."

Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the edge of an Ancient console. "How long overdue are they for a check-in?"

Chuck looked down at his laptop, presumably at the clock. "Thirty minutes." He returned her gaze to her.

Elizabeth nodded. "Dial Olot and open a channel." She turned away and stared at the gate as the chevrons came to life one by one.

Chuck's words came on the heels of the wormhole flushing into existence. "Channel open, ma'am."

Elizabeth tapped her radio headset. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Weir. Come in please." She lowered her head, unconsciously holding her breath as she waited for John's familiar voice to lay her concerns to rest. Deep down, she knew it wasn't coming. John might have a relaxed command style, but there were some things, like off-world check-ins, that he never let slip. He was thirty minutes overdue and, with John Sheppard, that only meant trouble. "Colonel Sheppard, please respond." After another long minute, Elizabeth shook her head and nodded at Chuck to close the channel. "Shut down the gate, and call Captain Markelli to my office immediately."

As she turned and headed back to her office, Elizabeth took one moment to wish Lorne were here. But the major was off world delivering emergency supplies to one of their allies who had recently been culled. Still, even though Markelli had only been assigned to Atlantis recently, he already seemed to have made a good impression with John. Good instincts, John had said, and Elizabeth had worked with her military commander long enough to trust his judgment.

She'd no sooner seated herself behind her desk when she caught sight of Markelli trotting up the back stairs to Ops. Without hesitation, he quickly crossed the bridge to her office.

"Ma'am?"

Elizabeth waved him in. "Colonel Sheppard's team is thirty five minutes overdue on their check-in from Olot and we've been unable to contact them."

Markelli nodded once, curtly. "I can have a team ready to go in ten minutes."

Elizabeth's smile was strained. "I'm not sure I want to send any more people to Olot, Captain."

Markelli took a step forward. "Ma'am, with all due respect, Colonel Sheppard would be doing the same thing if it was my team in trouble. I know the risk… and so do my guys. I know they'd agree with me. If the Colonel's team is in trouble, then we need to help." His gaze narrowed. "We can't leave them behind."

Elizabeth's gaze hardened slightly. "I know that, Captain." Not irritated by the soldier, she nonetheless felt the need to remind him that while she was a civilian, she'd headed Atlantis, and worked with John long enough, to embrace the principle of leaving no one behind. Nevertheless, she still resisted suicide missions, and would rein even John in if the situation warranted it.

Markelli stared back at her for a moment, before he took a deep breath and nodded. "Apologies, ma'am."

Elizabeth let a soft smile drive the harsh edges from her expression. "It's all right, Captain."

"We could connect to the MALP we left on Olot to do a recon of the immediate area around the gate. If it's clear, that at least gives my team a good starting place."  
Elizabeth nodded. "Erickson has the gene, correct?" she asked, naming the young lieutenant on Markelli's team.

"Yes, ma'am. If we get the green light to go, I'd like to take a Jumper."

"Agreed." Elizabeth pushed back from her desk and walked around it to join the captain as they headed for Ops. "Chuck," she said as she re-entered ops, "dial up Olot and see if you can connect to the MALP."

"Yes, ma'am." Chuck turned and carried out her orders.

Before long, Elizabeth stood next to Markelli and they watched over another technician's shoulder as he pulled up the MALP telemetry on his laptop.

"Scanning," the technician commented absently before shaking his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. No energy or life sign readings within the range of the MALP. The area around the gate looks clear."

Elizabeth turned her head and looked right into the expectant gaze of Markelli. She nodded once. "You have a go, Captain. Be safe."

Markelli returned the nod and quickly headed for the stairs out of Ops.

--------------------

"Jeeze!" John panted as he and Kelin wove through the woods. "Those bastards are tenacious!" Behind him, he could hear the clatter of a group of Olotians still pursuing them. He slapped aside a branch angrily. Separated from his team, he had no idea if they still were loose, captured, hurt or even dead. "Shouldn't have split up," he grumbled, even though deep down he knew it had been the only way.

"You had no choice, John," Kelin commented, sounding slightly out of breath.

"Yeah," John reluctantly agreed. He staggered as Kelin's hand on his chest stopped him nearly in his tracks. "What?"

"Listen," Kelin demanded.

John struggled to quiet his fast and noisy breathing and tried to listen over the pounding of his heart. Like Teyla, the Athosian man had spent his life as a hunter. If he heard something, there was reason to pay attention. John furrowed his brows at the sound of metal on wood, and voices.

"Another group of Olotians." Kelin's words affirmed John's suspicions.

"Crap." John looked over his shoulder in the direction of their pursuers, not yet visible but sound of their approach getting louder by the minute. "We can't take on both groups at once."

Kelin nodded. "Then we must eliminate one group and evade the other."

John sighed loudly, half in exasperation and half in exhaustion. "Bets on which group is smaller?" he quipped darkly.

Kelin's chortle was nearly lost in his own fast breaths. "Our pursuers are closer." He ducked around a large tree and grabbed the branch of a smaller deciduous tree hidden behind. With a strong pull, he bent the branch to its breaking point and snapped it off with a loud crack. Lifting his leg, he split the branch in half over his knee before holding one piece out in John's direction.

John winced, remembering the bruise he sported when he'd tried the same thing. "Gotta show me how to do that sometime." He took the proffered stick and twirled it once, testing its balance. "Be better with two…."

"There is no time," Kelin answered. As if on cue, a group of Olotians appeared from the underbrush. Fanning out, they slowly circled Kelin and John.

John fixed his eyes on the Olotian in front of him, while keeping track of two others in his peripheral vision. He felt Kelin press his back against his, and he took a measure of reassurance from that. Kelin had probably forgotten more about fighting with sticks and hand-to-hand combat then John thought he could ever learn.

John refocused his attention on what he faced. All six Olotians carried weapons that were directly lethal: four pitchforks and two machetes. His gaze narrowed. As much as he hated to do it, he knew they could very well be in a position where deadly force might be necessary. He knew the Olotians would try to avoid killing them, since they would wish to offer the prisoners alive to the Wraith. But capture would only delay the inevitable; once the Wraith had interrogated them, they'd certainly be fed on.

John pushed down his easy-going nature, letting a dark, detached and almost ruthless mindset settle in. Though carefully masked, the ability to kill without hesitation was something he always carried; a side of him he hated to think about, but accepted as a necessity. Not only was his own life now at stake but, more importantly, the lives of his friends and teammates too. In his mind, there was never a better reason to kill if he had to.

"Surrender," one of the Olotians stated flatly.

"Don't think so," John immediately answered.

"We will kill you if we must." The Olotian lifted his machete and took a step closer. He must have seen a hint of disbelief in John's eyes because he shook his head. "It would be far better to present the Savior's people with your dead corpses than with nothing at all."

John could feel a dark cloud settle over his emotions as he let the ruthless side of himself wholly take over. "Give it your best shot." He continued staring at the man, when he suddenly caught a flash of motion from his left. Turning, he jumped aside, avoiding the pitchfork aimed at his gut. Spinning, he backhanded the Olotian wielding it in the back of the head with his stick. Soundlessly, the man went down. He chanced a glance at Kelin, who was adeptly parrying two more Olotians, while another circled. John looked away, forced to concentrate on preserving his own hide as another two Olotians charged him.

_One down, five to go…_ John kept count in the back of his mind as he faced off against his two opponents, evaluating each of them. They were farmers, not soldiers; he knew that, given just a little time, he could find a way to best both of them. Confident, he continued circling. But, as the one who'd spoken charged him, swinging the machete over his head, he was surprised to see the other man come at him at the same time, the pitchfork leveled at his stomach. John ducked the machete blow aimed at his head, sidestepped and shoved the stick he carried between two tines of the pitchfork. He twisted his body and pulled the man off balance, sending him staggering, but the force of the move shattered his stick. Jumping back, John's hands curled into fists as he faced his armed opponent with nothing but his bare hands and his wits.

Stepping to his left, he tried to make his way to the pitchfork lying on the ground next to the first man he'd knocked unconscious, but the man with the machete blocked his way. John quickly glanced at the other Olotian and saw he'd recovered and regained his pitchfork.

"John!"

John turned his head, just in time to see Kelin disarm one of his opponents of a machete. He tossed it on the ground in John's direction John took two steps, rolled and grabbed the machete, letting his momentum bring him to his feet again.

Fighting with a sword of any kind was alien to him, but his strong sense of self-preservation, combined with his training with knives, worked wonders as his opponents charged. He twisted the machete and caught the pitchfork between two prongs, wrenching it from his opponent's grasp. Kicking out, he landed a crippling blow to the man's midsection; with a muffled cry, the man dropped like a stone.

Wasting no time, John turned and caught his final opponent's wrist, stopping a blow meant for his head. He stared darkly into the man's eyes for a moment, before he unhesitatingly shoved the blade of his machete deep in the Olotian's gut. He let go of the man's wrist and pulled the machete free, and his opponent's eyes rolled back and he soundlessly collapsed. Whirling around, John saw Kelin dispose of the last of his adversaries with a move that surely broke the Olotian's neck.

John panted heavily as he locked eyes with his friend and mentor and Kelin stared back for a moment, also breathing hard. He walked over to John and looked down at the dead Olotian, before his gaze passed over the unconscious ones. "I did not wish to kill," he commented quietly.

John nodded. "Me either." He narrowed his gaze slightly at Kelin. "Didn't have a choice."

Kelin nodded. "When we escape this planet, I fear the rest of the Olotian people will not be granted as swift and painless deaths as these men."

John clenched his jaw, firmly putting aside any reflexive sympathy. He tried not to be ruthless, but the Olotians had lost any good grace in his eyes when they captured, threatened and tried to kill his team. He silently locked gazes with Kelin, letting the cold, detached expression he wore convey his feelings.

Kelin silently took up the other abandoned machete and looked around, before focusing on a point to their left. "The other group is not far. We must hurry if we are to evade them."

"Right." With a deep sigh, John followed Kelin off into the woods.


	4. Book II Ch 2

Captain Markelli glanced over at his pilot, Lieutenant Erickson, and gave him a nod. He turned his attention back to the wormhole that shimmered in front of them as Dr. Weir's voice hailed him.

"MALP still shows the area all clear, Captain." Weir's voice was even and professional. "You have a go."

"Copy that," Markelli responded. He added quietly, "We'll find the Colonel's team, ma'am."

"Good luck."

Markelli's mouth turned up in a small, resolute smile. "We'll bring 'em back, ma'am." He fixed his gaze forward as the Jumper crossed the event horizon.

As they emerged from the wormhole, Erickson immediately pulled up the HUD. "No life signs close by, sir," he confirmed.

Markelli scanned the HUD display, before his eyes widened. Adrenaline shot through him. At the top of the scanner, a dot blinked menacingly at them. "What the…"

"Hive!" Erickson shouted.

"Cloak!" Markelli ordered immediately. But, even as he felt the familiar shimmer pass through the ship as it cloaked, his instincts screamed at him. "Evasive…." He never managed to finish his sentence as the Jumper shook violently, throwing him hard against the console.

"We're hit!"

Erickson's voice only confirmed what Markelli already knew. He looked up and tensed as the ground rushed up to meet them.

-------------------------

"What the hell was that?" Rodney stopped and looked up, trying to identify the muffled sound of a distant explosion. Next to him, Teyla halted and looked around.

"It sounded like something exploded."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Yes, explosion. I know that! But what, exactly exploded?"

Teyla's gaze narrowed. "I do not know," she responded coolly.

Rodney's gaze passed over several trees, each looking the same to him. "How the hell can anyone tell what direction they're going in this?" he groused. "Where's the gate?"

Teyla walked a few steps past him. "It is this way." She started through the trees.

Rodney's shoulders sagged as he realized the direction she was going.

When he was a kid, his old Aunt Matilda had tried to convince him there was a God, but Rodney had never embraced it. Right now, he questioned that lack of belief, because someone, somewhere, in some omnipotent plane of existence, obviously had a twisted sense of humor.

He looked at Teyla's retreating back. "Great. Let's go towards the explosion…." His voice trailed off as he took a deep breath and followed behind her.

---------------------------

Carson squinted as he followed behind Ronon. While he was never an experienced woodsman, he knew without a doubt that they weren't heading towards the gate anymore. "Uh, lad? I think you might be turned around a wee bit. The gate's the other way."

Ronon stopped and looked back at him. "Yep." He pointed over his shoulder. "But the village is this way."

"Village?" Carson's eyes widened. "Why are we going back to the village?"

Ronon resumed his trek through the woods. "Gotta get my gun."

Carson stopped dead in his tracks. "We're going back for your _gun_?"

"Yep. Be quiet." Ronon ducked under a branch.

"Are ye daft?" Carson answered. "We'll get you another bloody gun."When Ronon didn't reply, he whispered emphatically, "This is insane!"

"Nope. I want this gun," Ronon insisted, not looking back.

Weighing following a questionably sane Ronon back to the village against standing alone in woods crawling with very mad Olotians, Carson set off after the Satedan. "The Colonel ordered us back to the gate, or have your forgotten?"

"I didn't forget," Ronon answered as he pushed aside a large branch. "We are goin' to the gate… after I get my gun. The villagers won't be expecting us anyway."

Still not convinced that Ronon wasn't bereft of his senses, Carson grudgingly admitted that he did have a point. The last thing the Olotians would expect would be for two of their prisoners to come back. Sighing and realizing there was no way to deter the ex-Runner, Carson followed him.

---------------------------------

Markelli groaned and pushed back from the dead console. "Damn," he muttered as he shook his head gently, trying to push away the throbbing. He looked over at Erickson's still form. Even as he reached for a pulse, he already knew from the young lieutenant's open, vacant eyes that he was dead. Pressing his lips into a thin line, Markelli looked over his shoulder at Corporal Levitt and Lieutenant Spencer. Both men had been thrown to the floor by the impact.

"You two okay?" Markelli asked, nodding as both answered in the affirmative.

"Erickson?" Levitt's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the dead officer's face. "Shit."

Not responding, Markelli pushed himself out of his seat and grabbed his P-90. "Come on. The Wraith must want to take us alive, or we'd be ashes right now. That means ground troops are coming. This Jumper's a sitting target. We gotta get out of here."

"The Colonel?" Spencer questioned.

Markelli offered Spencer a hand. "We'll try to hail him when we get clear." Turning, he reached under Erickson's coat collar and grabbed his tags, pulling them lose. Without a word, he tucked the dog tags into his vest pocket. Making brief eye contact with both of his men, he nodded. "Come on." Stepping past them, he slapped the hatch release and led his team from the wrecked Jumper.

-----------------------------

Ronon reached out, grabbing Carson's sleeve and pulling the doctor to an abrupt stop. "Wait." Ronon's gaze narrowed as he peered through the trees, searching for trouble with more than his eyes.

"What?" Carson whispered.

"We're close to the village." Ronon squatted behind some bushes, dragging Carson down with him "Someone's coming." He let go of Carson's coat and peered through the bushes, waiting. Beside him, Carson fell silent. Respect flickered in Ronon. He'd only just gotten to know Atlantis' chief doctor, but already was starting to develop a favorable impression. The doctor remained calm and silent in spite of a situation that would have driven a lot of people into panic.

The first thing he'd ever noticed about Carson, Ronon remembered, was compassion. He knew Carson needed that for his job, but it reminded him strongly of Melina. Compassion for the sick and injured had driven her, had made her stay when the Wraith arrived…

…had led to her death.

Ronon pushed the thoughts aside. At first, he'd avoided the doctor – to the point where Sheppard had to threaten to take Ronon off his team in order to get him to submit to a routine physical. But something about the infirmary, the smells, the sights, and the feel of it, as well as the people who worked there, constantly reminded him of what he'd lost. After seven years alone, that pain had never faded.

In time, he'd seen enough of the doctor to know that, under his compassion, he was as hard as a rock when needed, and Ronon found a respect in that. Around the same time, he'd slowly realized he was making friends again, and that he could once more afford the luxury of friends… that befriending him didn't necessarily mean they would die.

Ronon pushed aside his introspective thoughts as the bushes ahead of them rustled and a single Olotian man emerged. Ronon arched a humorless eyebrow at Carson. "Stay here," he whispered, and noiselessly slipped through the bushes without waiting for Carson's answer.

Just out of sight of Carson, Ronon crouched, waiting motionless as the unsuspecting Olotian man moved closer to him. He bided his time, watching for the perfect moment. When it came, he took it without hesitation. Bursting from cover, he smoothly pulled his knife from his vambrace and grabbed the man from behind, wrenching his arm behind his back.

The Olotian stiffened as Ronon pressed the blade into his throat. "Where are our weapons?" Ronon hissed without preamble. His blade shifted slightly as the man's swallowed.

"I… I do not know…."

Ronon pressed the blade harder into the main's neck, drawing a thin trickle of blood. "Wrong answer."

"A hut!" the man hissed, his voice near panic. "A hut close by! I can take you there. Please…."

Ronon tipped his head, his mouth close to the man's ear. "You take me to my gun and I'll let you live. Do anything but that, and I'll slice you ear to ear. Your friends might kill me, but not before I kill you. Got it?" Again, he felt his blade move as the man swallowed hard.

"Y…yes." The man's voice hitched. "P… please, I have a son…."

"Then do as I say, and you'll live to see him again," Ronon interrupted. He turned his head slightly. "Beckett?" He returned his attention to his prisoner as Carson stepped out of the bushes.

"God…," Carson started, but fell silent as Ronon glared at him.

"Move." Ronon pushed the Olotian ahead of him.

On the edge of the village, Ronon could feel the Olotian's body shift left slightly.

"This way," he whispered and Ronon complied. Sticking to the shadows, Ronon still moved stealthily, despite marching his prisoner along. One Olotian he could take easily, but if the others saw him… them…. Ronon knew he could hold his own in a fight, but he knew Carson couldn't. The feeling of protection that raced through him was strange. He would've called it unfamiliar, except it wasn't. It was more… underused. Brief glimpses of Sateda and his companions followed on the heels of his protectiveness, long unused from his years as a Runner.

Sheppard's people had changed that, and reawakened his honor. They might be different in a lot of ways, but beyond their shared hatred of the Wraith, both Sheppard's people and he shared a deep devotion to helping and protecting the innocent. Carson, for all his bravery, wasn't a fighter, and Ronon would make damned sure he didn't find himself in a situation where he had to.

Ronon refocused his thoughts as they came to the doorway of a dark hut. Silently, he pushed his prisoner through the door first, and then entered himself, Carson right behind him. Arrayed before them were TAC vests, guns and all the equipment stripped from the team when they were captured.

"This is what you wanted?" the Olotian stammered. "You will let me go?"

"Never said I'd let you go," Ronon answered quietly.

"Ronon…," Carson started, only to be silenced by Ronon's glare.

In one, smooth motion, Ronon pulled the knife away from the man's throat, flipped it in his hand, and bashed his fist into the man's face, knocking him unconscious. Noiselessly, he let the Olotian slip to the floor.

"You didn't kill him." Carson squinted down at the man before looking back up at Ronon with a mixture of surprise and bemusement.

Ronon returned his gaze with a neutral one of his own. "No." He pointed at the equipment. "Get a gun."

He grabbed his own gun belt and strapped it around his waist, reassured by the familiar feeling of the weapon bouncing against his thigh. He tied off the holster and quickly slung the remaining gun belts over his shoulder. Picking up a P-90, he paused and stared at Carson, who had strapped a nine mil to his thigh and donned a TAC vest before grabbing his medical pack. "Ever use one of these?" He lifted the P-90.

Carson grimaced. "Held? Yes. Used? No."

Ronon walked up and clipped the P-90 to Carson's vest. "Take it."

"Now wait just a damned minute…."

"Take it," Ronon repeated as he picked up the remaining P-90's. He paused, before picking up a small device off the table. "Jumper remote." Smiling slightly, he looked at Carson. "Time to fly, Doc." He held his dark amusement as Carson grimaced slightly, before nodding.

Checking to be sure the safeties were on for both P-90's, Ronon fed one of the gun belts through their handles and slung the belt over his back with the rest. Pulling his gun, he stepped over the unconscious Olotian and peered out the door. After a moment, convinced no Olotians were around, he led Carson from the hut and back into the woods.

------------------------------

It was a shift in the energies of the forest that first alarmed her. Reaching out, Teyla grabbed McKay's arm and pulled him down behind some bushes.

"What…?"

"Shh!" Teyla hissed quietly and, for once, Rodney complied. "Someone is coming." Watching, Teyla's eyes zeroed in on movement and she tensed as three people emerged from the trees. Instantly, she relaxed as she recognized Captain Markelli.

"Markelli!" Rodney shot to his feet.

Markelli and his two men spun, bringing their guns to bear on Rodney.

After a moment, Markelli lowered his gun, but not before glaring at Rodney. "Jesus, McKay! Do you **want** to be shot?"

"Fine, sure! Blame me for your hair trigger responses!" Rodney snapped back.

Teyla slowly stood and smiled at the Captain.

Markelli's dark look instantly disappeared. "Teyla. Good to see you."

She nodded once. "And you, Captain."

"Great," Rodney muttered. "At least I know where I stand in all of this. Please, don't let your relief at seeing **both **of us alive overwhelm me, or anything."

"What the hell happened here?" Markelli pointedly ignored Rodney's grumblings.

Teyla stepped out of the bushes and walked up to him. "The Olotians betrayed us to the Wraith. Brantor believes that turning us over to Eresgal's hive will return his people to favor in their eyes. We managed to escape, but not before Brantor activated a long range beacon, calling the Wraith here."

"Okay." Markelli nodded. "That explains the Hive that shot down our Jumper."

"Shot you down?" Teyla looked around, suddenly realizing there were only three of them where there should've been four. She quickly looked back through her memory, recalling a name. "Lieutenant Erikson?"

Markelli's expression sobered. "No."

Teyla closed her eyes and nodded once.

"If the Wraith shot you down, then they're probably swarming the gate by now," Rodney interjected. "Does anyone else but me see how screwed we are at this point?"

Markelli sighed. "He's right."

Teyla closed her eyes for a moment, and reached out with her senses before nodding. "Yes. There are Wraith at the gate." She looked around. "We need to find the others. Then we will devise a way to get past the Wraith and escape back to Atlantis."

Markelli nodded. "Any idea where to look?"

"We split up, but Sheppard ordered everyone to get back to the Gate," Rodney answered. "They can't be far."

Markelli nodded. "All right Let's see if we can find them."

"Ma'am?"

Teyla turned and saw Corporal Levitt holding his nine mil out to her, grip first. She smiled. "Thank you, corporal."

"My pleasure, ma'am," Levitt responded.

"I'm on point," Markelli ordered. "Spencer, take the six. Let's move."

Teyla took her place, just behind Rodney and in front of Corporal Spencer as Markelli led them off into the woods.

----------------

"Gate can't be that far." John sucked in a deep breath and pushed his burning legs to continue running. Not far behind them, a group of Olotians were tracking them like bloodhounds. No matter what he and Kelin did, they couldn't seem to shake their pursuers.

"It is not," Kelin replied, only slightly winded.

"The least you could do," John gasped, "is **act** tired!" He was rewarded with a slight chuckle from his friend.

"I have chased fleet animals as a hunter all my life, John," Kelin answered.

"Gotcha," John responded. He jumped over a small log and continued running. "The fleetest thing I ever chased was Maryanne Cox when I was in college. NCAA track star. Man, she was fast…." He shook his head slightly at Kelin's second chuckle. He liked to think of himself as a pretty fit guy, but the pace and stamina that Kelin was showing put him to shame. _Generations of hunters,_ John reasoned to himself, _has to be it._

John staggered to a stop as Kelin halted and raised his hand.

"We are near the edge of the woods. From here it will be difficult to remain undetected." Kelin whispered.

Keeping an ear out for the sounds of their pursuers, John cautiously crept forward, shoulder to shoulder with Kelin until they stood at the tree line itself. Pushing aside a few branches, he resisted the urge to cuss out loud as, even from a considerable distance away, he could see at least a dozen Wraith milling around the gate. His gaze narrowed as it zeroed in on the crashed hulk of a Jumper and he gave in to temptation. "Damn it," he whispered. "See our guys from the Jumper anywhere?"

"No," Kelin answered. "Only Wraith."

John scrutinized the char marks on the hull of the Jumper. Even from a distance, they were impressive. "No stun weapon did that." His voice was confident. "They were shot down by a hive or a cruiser. That means they were shot down from orbit. They must've got away before the Wraith had a chance to get down here and nab 'em."

"It is also possible that they were killed in the crash or have since been caught, John," Kelin reasoned quietly.

John never looked away from the gate. "I prefer to think they got away." After a moment, he glanced at Kelin and acknowledged that the Athosian had a point.

"Without weapons, we do not have a chance," Kelin observed.

"I know." John's tone was bitter as he turned his gaze back on the Wraith. "And it's not like they're just going to give up and leave if we wait them out." He gritted his teeth and exhaled. "Between Brantor and that Jumper, they know we're here, and they know the only way we can get away is through the gate."

"What do we do?" Kelin asked quietly.

John pushed back into the trees and stood. "We find the others. If we stick to the perimeter of the woods between here and the gate, we're bound to run into them, hopefully before these damned Olotians run into us. With any luck, the team from that Jumper is armed and we'll have some chance of repelling the Olotians and ambushing the Wraith. Then we get the hell out of here."

------------------------

Ronon burst through the bushes and into a small clearing, Carson right behind him. He looked around for a minute, before pulling out the Jumper remote and pressing a key.

Instantly, the Jumper shimmered into existence.

Sparing a quick look at Carson, Ronon smiled as they both dashed up the back ramp. Carson deposited the P-90 on one of the benches and immediately took the pilot's seat, while Ronon sat in the seat next to him. He looked up at the windshield as Carson closed the back hatch and brought up the HUD.

"Oh, damn it," Carson muttered.

Ronon was inclined to agree as his gaze fixed on a group of red dots in the center of the display. Around them in every direction were small scatters of blue dots.

He pointed at central cluster. "Wraith?"

"Aye," Carson nodded. "The red dots are Wraith. They're surrounding the gate." He pointed at some of the bluish colored dots. "These are probably in the woods around the gate. Some of them must be our people and some are probably Olotians." He glanced at an auxiliary reading in one corner of the HUD. "Faint energy readings… it's another Jumper!"

"Powered?" Ronon asked.

"No." Carson shook his head. "Minimal power readings. Either they're powered down or…," he trailed off.

"Shot down?"

"Aye," Carson sighed. "Oh peachy." He pointed to another part of the HUD. "There's a hive in orbit as well."

"Let's go, Doc," Ronon urged. "We're not going to find out anything sitting around here."

Carson nodded and eased the Jumper into the air. "Cloaking now," he commented absently, and Ronon felt the familiar shimmer through the hull of the ship as it went into stealth mode.

--------------------

John felt a tug on his shirt and he looked back, meeting Kelin's intent gaze.

"Someone is ahead," Kelin whispered.

Before John could say a word, figures materialized from the shadows. He tensed, only to relax as he instantly recognized his people. He smiled at Markelli. "Captain."

"Sir."

John nodded once at Teyla and Rodney. "Any sign of Ronon and Beckett?"

Teyla shook her head. "No. We only just met up with Captain Markelli."

As if on cue, Markelli stepped forward and pulled something out of his vest pocket.

John's gaze narrowed and he held out his hand. His jaw tightened as Markelli gently laid a set of dog tags on his palm. John squinted at the print for a moment. "Erickson."

"Killed in the crash when the hive shot down our Jumper, sir," Markelli confirmed.

Slowly, John's hand tightened around the tags. So far, they'd all managed to survive, even Myer, but now… now things had changed. The Olotians' fanatical devotion to the Wraith had just cost him one of his men. All bets were off. "All right," John returned his attention to Markelli. "Let's get moving. There's a group of Olotians not far…."

"Stop!"

John spun as he heard the simultaneous clicks of several weapons being brought to bear. His gaze narrowed at a group of five Olotians facing off with his people.

"Surrender." The lead Olotian waved a machete in his direction.

"You don't want to do this." John tried to reason with him. "You're no match for our weapons. Turn around and walk away, and we'll let you go."

The lead Olotian smiled, his expression an odd cross of fanaticism and serenity. "My spirit is prepared to journey to the Highworld." He raised his machete slightly. "Is yours?"

John slowly stepped aside and out of the line of fire of his men. "My survival isn't in question here. Trust me, you don't stand a chance."

"That will remain to be seen," the Olotian replied softly.

John grimaced. It'd be a senseless slaughter and one he very much wanted to avoid, not only to prevent tipping the Wraith off as to where they were – the gunshots would echo for miles – but because, in spite of everything the Olotians had done to him and his people, pointless killing never sat right with him. He shook his head.

"Do not do this," Kelin interjected. "There is no honor in a senseless death."

"Service to the Savior is not senseless!" The Olotian turned to his companions. "Take them!" As one, the Olotians charged.

Markelli, Levitt and Spencer's response was immediate, the echoes of their P-90 fire resonating. Within seconds, all five Olotians lay on the forest floor either dead, or dying.

"Aw, hell," John hissed through clenched teeth. He stepped past Markelli and pulled the nine mil from Spencer's thigh holster. "Come on. Those shots are gonna bring the Wraith running."

------------------------

Sometimes, Carson wondered exactly how he'd gone from researcher and physician to pilot and occasional soldier. Keeping the Jumper cloaked, he skimmed low over the trees as he raced towards the gate. Through the HUD display, the grasslands passed quickly under them, but it was a change in the HUD that grabbed his attention. "Oh hell."

"What?" Ronon immediately responded.

Carson nodded his head towards the HUD. "Look. There's a group of Wraith converging on a group of… of… non-Wraith. Could be Olotians, or could be our people."

"If it's Olotians, I don't care, but if it's Sheppard and the others…." Ronon's jaw tightened, the only outward indication of his frustration.

Returning his attention to the scenery as it sped by, Carson urged the Jumper to go faster.

------------------------

Crashing through the brush, and into the open grasslands far from the gate, John silently cursed their situation. Three times now, they'd visited this planet, and twice his team had nearly been killed. _Okay,_ he admitted darkly, _the verdict is still out on this trip…_ He staggered to a stop as, right in front of him, Markelli abruptly halted, his P-90 coming up.

John's eyes widened and he instantly raised his nine-mil, zeroing in on a large group of Wraith soldiers. He heard weapons come to bear all around him even as he squeezed off shots into the nearest Wraith. At this point, capture meant certain interrogation and death. They had to escape, if only to protect Atlantis' secret. _Or die trying…. _They were still close enough to the trees to have a fighting chance and John seized the opportunity. "Cover!" he shouted over the rapid fire of P-90's.

Reaching back, he pushed Rodney, all the while backpedaling and keeping himself between the doctor and the Wraith. Dodging behind a tree, he rolled left, and returned fire as stun blasts hit the bushes all around him. He ducked back behind the tree and ejected the clip from his gun. He shook his head in frustration. _My kingdom for a P-90!_ "Spencer! Clip!" He reached up, catching the spare clip mid-air as the airman tossed it his direction. Reloading, he turned and fired several shots into the closest target that presented itself.

"We're so screwed!" Rodney shouted.

"Stow it, McKay!" John shouted back.

"We're cut off from the gate, and the Wraith are only going to reinforce their position now that they've pinpointed us!" McKay retorted. "Tell me where I'm wrong here!"

In an almost prophetic manner, a dart appeared, depositing a dozen more Wraith guards, who immediately started firing at them.

John's gaze narrowed as he was forced to admit Rodney was right, even if he wasn't going to admit it out loud. He glanced to his left at Teyla and exchanged the briefest of glances at her, knowing full well that she had reached the same conclusion. As John emptied his last clip, his mind latched onto one hopeful thought: Maybe Carson and Ronon would escape.

------------------

"There!" Carson pointed at a group of shapes just becoming visible in the distance: unmistakably Wraith, even without the blue-green bolts of stunner fire to prove it. He pointed at a group of blue dots on the HUD that were positioned just beyond the tree line. "That has to be our people the Wraith are shooting at."

"Doc, drones!" Ronon growled.

If flying a Jumper made Carson nervous, firing drones scared the hell out of him. "The last time I shot drones, I nearly killed Colonel Sheppard and General O'Neill…."

"Do it!" Ronon roared.

Carson couldn't see any alternative. With all those Wraith around, there was no way he could land and pick up their people. "Ah, hell…." He closed his eyes and concentrated on destroying the Wraith. Through the controls, he could feel the Jumper respond, de-cloaking and launching three drones. Carson opened his eyes as all three drones detonated, effectively clearing the field of any Wraith in one go.

"Nice shooting, Doc," Ronon commented, his voice quieter.

Without a word, Carson kicked the Jumper into overdrive.

------------------------------

"What the hell was that?" Rodney shouted.

John blinked, trying to clear the spots from his vision. "Drones!" He looked at his captain. "Markelli?"

"Clear, sir."

"How the hell did Elizabeth get another Jumper through?" Rodney wondered out loud.

"Not gonna ask." John eased out into the open. "They're here, that's all that matters. He looked up as a Jumper skimmed low over the trees and landed. "Who…?" His statement was cut off by the scream of two Darts flying in low. As one, they deposited at least a dozen Wraith apiece on the open grassland. The Wraith immediately began firing and John dropped flat on the ground as stunner fire crackled around him.

"Sheppard!"

It took a brief moment for John to register that the voice hailing him was Ronon. He turned his head to see the big man appear, P-90 in one hand and his blaster in the other, from the back of the Jumper, which had landed nearby. John pushed himself into a crouch as Ronon tossed the P-90 his direction. Risking being shot, John stretched upwards and nabbed the gun from mid air, before dropping back to the grass, clicking off the safety and firing. "McKay! Teyla! Get to the Jumper. We'll cover you. Go!" He sprayed a wide arc of fire across the advancing Wraith as his two unarmed team-mates ran towards Ronon.

Suddenly, he was pushed flat to the ground by the power of a deafening blast. Looking over his shoulder, his eyes widened at the charred crater only feet from the visible Jumper, which still rocked from the impact. "Hive's firing! We're out of time!" He waved at Levitt and Spencer. "Go!" Pushing himself to one knee, John laid down more cover fire, his shots joined by Ronon's as the two men raced to the Jumper. He looked to the tree line where more P-90 fire echoed. "Markelli!" he shouted. Backpedaling, he took cover just inside the Jumper, which shook from another close blast by the Hive.

"Damn it!" Carson shouted.

"Is it just me, or does their aim suck?" John shouted over the sound of gunfire.

"They're not trying to destroy us," Rodney interrupted. "They want us alive so they can interrogate us!"

Grimacing, John was forced to agree with Rodney. The Wraith could easily have turned them into a crater by now; they had to want them alive. He braced his feet as the Jumper rocked from another blast.

"Another shot that close and we'll be grounded!" Rodney shouted. "We've already lost sensors, and the main power conduits to the drive pods have been damaged."

John reached behind him and ripped the headset off Levitt's ear before shoving it over his. "Markelli! High-tail it to the Jumper, now! We'll cover you." He opened fire on the Wraith descending on Markelli's position.

"Negative, sir," Markelli responded. "I'm cut off from the Jumper. I'll draw their fire. Go!"

"Markelli!" John shouted as he fired. "We'll cover you. Move your ass!"

"Can't do that, sir." Markelli responded.

John kept firing, stopping only long enough to reload. Again, two Darts made a low pass over the field, leaving behind enough Wraith to make up for every single one his team had killed, and then some. Grimly, he realized they were within minutes of being overrun. Again, the Jumper shook from a close blast by the Hive.

"Sheppard!" Rodney shouted. "If you want to get out of here, we have to go… NOW!"

John gritted his teeth so hard he thought he'd chip them as he dropped another Wraith. "Markelli! Get away and lay low. We'll be back to get you. Stay alive, that's an order!"

"Get out of here, sir!" Markelli sounded winded and his shots grew fainter as he escaped into the woods.

John turned just in time to grab Levitt's arm as the corporal tried to bolt out the back of the Jumper. Spencer grabbed his other arm.

"NO!" John held fast as the corporal squirmed. "Stand down!" he shouted in the face of the young soldier, his voice ringing with command. He looked past him. "Carson! Cloak and go!" Smacking the controls for the hatch, he grabbed onto the cargo webbing as the Jumper lurched off the ground. Turning, he paused long enough to release Levitt and stare him straight in the eye. "We'll be back," he reassured him. He stepped past Levitt and walked swiftly to the cockpit. Leaning on Carson's seat, he eyed the HUD. "What's our status?"

"We're cloaked," Rodney responded from the co-pilot's chair. "That's bought us some time, but the Wraith know we'll head for the gate. It's the only place we can go."

John scowled in frustration. "Then we need to get there as fast as possible, before they can reinforce their position any more then they probably already have." He looked sideways at Ronon. "I thought I ordered you back to the gate."

Ronon stared at him, his expression deadpan. "We're here, aren't we?"

John's gaze narrowed. "With a Jumper," he looked down, "and your gun."

"I wanted my gun." Ronon sounded unrepentant. "When we found all our weapons and the remote, I thought it was a good idea to get the Jumper."

John felt his anger boil but he put a lid on it. "The Jumper definitely saved our asses," he admitted, "but remind me to yell at you later for disobeying my orders and dragging Carson along with you for the ride."

"He wasn't in danger," Ronon insisted.

"Now's not the time," John cut him off.

"Excuse me," Rodney interjected, "but if you two are done with the pissing match, we have more pressing concerns."

Staring one more moment at Ronon, John turned his attention to the HUD. His gaze narrowed at the large number of Wraith life signs surrounding it. "This is going to be… interesting."

"You have a gift for understatement, you know that?" Rodney snapped back.

Reaching forward, John patted Carson's shoulder. "Better let me take over, Doc. Put her on autopilot and switch places with me."

Carson nodded, closed his eyes for a moment, and then stood.

John quickly slid into the pilot's seat, his hands wrapping around the controls as he mentally linked up with the ship. "Markelli…" he took a deep breath, "drew away most of the Wraith attacking us, but they must've been reinforcing the gate at the same time." He sighed. "They're going to start shooting blindly as soon as we dial."

"Think you can land a couple of well placed drones without destroying the gate?" Rodney asked quietly.

John groaned. "Don't see where we have much choice. We'll never get by that many Wraith shooting at us, not with the damage the Jumper's already taken." He glanced at Rodney. "We can't risk the Wraith seeing Atlantis' address on the primary DHD. We'll dial one of the backups to the Alpha site and then gate back to Atlantis from there."

Rodney nodded. "Right."

John's grip tightened on the controls and he took a deep breath, his eyelids fluttering as he strengthened his mental bond with the ship, and felt it respond. _Thread the needle… don't damage the gate… shoot carefully…._ He kept repeating the thoughts in his head as they rapidly approached the gate. "Dial," he whispered. He could hear the tones from the DHD in the background as he fired two drones. _Easy… leave the gate alone…._ He opened his eyes in time to see both drones detonate close to the gate, but far enough away not to damage either it or the DHD.

"Nice shot," Ronon muttered.

John smiled slightly and de-cloaked. In spite of the shots from the remaining Wraith, the drive pods retracted smoothly and the Jumper disappeared through the wormhole.

As they emerged from the wormhole, John squinted in confusion. Instead of grasslands greeting his gaze, he saw nothing but open space. "I thought I told you to dial one of the backups!" He shot an accusing glare at Rodney.

"I know, but I had a thought," Rodney responded.

"And you didn't care to mention it to the rest of us?" John snapped.

"Well, excuse me if you looked a bit preoccupied at the moment," Rodney retorted hotly. "It occurred to me that the Wraith would be able to follow us on foot and they'd know the address of one of our alpha site backups, so I dialed here instead." He smiled smugly.

John banked the Jumper back towards the active wormhole and arched a brow at the lifeless forms of five Wraith soldiers drifting aimlessly before the gate.

"Told you."

John could practically hear the smile in Rodney's smug statement. "All right, all right, good call," he admitted. "When you're done gloating, dial Atlantis."

"Lucky for you I can multitask," Rodney quipped.

"McKay," John shot him a deeply annoyed look. "Dial."

------------------------

Elizabeth was through the doors to the Jumper Bay before they were barely open enough to let her by. She jogged across the bay and stopped as the Jumper's back hatch slowly lowered. _Only one Jumper? Where's the other?_ Taking a deep breath, her eyes scanned the crew, disheveled but mostly in one piece. Those who were there…. Her eyes locked with John's. "Colonel, what happened? Where's the other Jumper? And where are…?" Her gaze narrowed as his intensified and he hurried down the ramp.

"Is Lorne back from M5Y-104?"

Confused, Elizabeth still managed to shake her head. "No, he's not due back for another hour. John," she insisted, "what happened?"

He inhaled deeply. "Long story short: the Olotians double crossed us and called the Wraith. We barely got out of there, Erickson's dead, and Markelli is still back on the planet. I need a strike team to go after him."

"Going with you," Ronon insisted.

"Us too," Levitt responded, apparently speaking for both himself and Spencer.

Elizabeth raised her hand. "Wait…."

"Elizabeth, we can't wait," John interrupted. "Markelli was in a hotbed of Wraith when we left him. We have to go. Now."

_Just once,_ Elizabeth pled silently, _I'd love to have all the facts before making a decision…._

"Elizabeth," John urged quietly.

She sighed before nodding curtly. "Go. We'll debrief when you get back."

John waited long enough to give her a nod before he dashed past her, presumably towards the armory, barking orders in his radio. Ronon, Teyla, Rodney, Levitt and Spencer hot on his heels.

She watched them for a moment, before turning back to the Jumper. She smiled thinly at Carson and Kelin. "Care to tell me what's going on?"

--------------------------------

"Colonel," Elizabeth activated her radio as she watched the doors from the Jumper Bay down into the Gate room open, "just so we're clear on the rules of engagement…"

"We're only going after Markelli," John interrupted in his usual style. "We'll be cloaked. We find him and leave. That's it. After all of this, the Olotians are on their own as far as I'm concerned."

Elizabeth pursed her lips and dropped her head at his bitter remark. _Where does that leave Nasse?_ She sighed deeply. _One crisis at a time…._ "You have a go, Colonel. Be careful."

"Copy that. Dialing the gate now, Sheppard out."

She could hear the hum of the Jumper, hovering just above the Gate room, as the gate came to life, each chevron locking. But, when it came around to the seventh chevron, the gate whined and went dark. Elizabeth squinted and tapped her radio. "John?"

"McKay what the hell?" John's voice came over the radio, promptly followed by Rodney.

"I don't get it! I dialed Olot's address."

"Dial again," John demanded.

"Is there a problem?" Elizabeth interrupted.

"Stand by," John answered, "McKay must've misdialed."

"I did NOT misdial!"

Again, the first six chevrons lit up; again, the gate went dark as the last chevron refused to lock.

"What the hell is going on?" John demanded loudly.

"It has to be on Olot's end," Rodney insisted. "The gate won't lock. I need… I need to run a diagnostic to be sure, but I don't think it's us."

"Could the gate on Olot be in use?" Elizabeth asked.

"It's possible," Rodney answered. "The only way to know for sure is to wait thirty-eight minutes. In the mean time, I want to run a gate diagnostic and make sure everything's fine on this side."

"Colonel," Elizabeth broke in. "Stand down until we figure this out." She looked up towards the Jumper as silence greeted her order. She was almost to the point of repeating herself when John answered.

"Copy that. Sheppard out."

Elizabeth stared at the dark gate, trying to overcome the foreboding in her gut. It was very likely that the gate on Olot was simply in use, but with everything they'd faced on that planet, her gut told her it was something else. She turned and looked at the technician behind her. "Chuck, I want you to try and dial Olot again. Keep trying until our thirty-eight minute window passes."

Chuck nodded. "Yes ma'am."

Elizabeth looked past him as John and his team all but flew down the stairs from the Jumper Bay and into Ops, and John made a beeline for her. "We'll keep trying to dial," she reassured him, the sounds of locking gate chevrons echoing behind her.

John nodded, before he looked out across the Gate room. His gaze narrowed as the gate once again went dark. "He was cut off from the Jumper," he said quietly. "Should've never left him."

Knowing John spoke of Markelli, Elizabeth folded her hands in front of her and took a couple steps to stand next to him. "From what Carson told me, you didn't have much choice. All of you would've been stranded and captured if you didn't leave. I'm sure Markelli knew that." She studied his face and noted a slight twitch along his cheek, the only sign of discomfort in his deeply stoic expression.

"He did," John finally answered quietly, "but that doesn't make this any better."

She took a deep breath. "I know."

John spun. "McKay, the gate?" he demanded.

From his place at one of the consoles, Rodney looked up. "Like I suspected, it's not on our end. There's nothing wrong with our DHD or our gate, and we know the address is right."

"So maybe they are just currently dialed out." Elizabeth tried to inject a note of optimism.

Her eyes met John's and in them she saw the same foreboding that she felt. Silently, he nodded.

"Yeah, maybe."

She looked down at Chuck. "Keep trying." Her gaze returned to John. "Carson and Kelin told me," she deftly changed the subject, "that the Olotians summoned the Wraith and were going to hand you over to them as redemption?" As she listened to John recite the mission to her, she watched his already brooding expression grow still darker. She took a moment when he finished to digest what he'd told her. "Did you kill any Olotians escaping?"

"Didn't have a choice," John answered. He arched a brow slightly at her. "And at this point, you probably don't want to ask me if I regretted it."

Elizabeth swallowed and nodded. She turned to Ronon. "Carson said you and he went back to the village?" She glanced at John before looking back to Ronon.

"Wanted my gun." Ronon shrugged. "And we had a chance to get the Jumper."

"Against my orders." John shot a warning look at Ronon.

"You said we saved your asses." Ronon stared evenly back at Sheppard.

Elizabeth's eyes darted between the two men and she could feel the tension.

"Still not the right time for that discussion." John's voice was deep. Abruptly. he turned away and stared out at the gate as it again went dark from another failed connection.

Elizabeth stared at Ronon's unfazed expression for a moment, before turning her attention to John's tense back. It was more than just butting heads with Ronon, she knew that for sure. If there was one thing John Sheppard never accepted, it was leaving men behind. Never mind that they'd only left Markelli behind because there was no way to get him and any further delay would've meant the capture of all of them. The fact Markelli was stranded on Olot while they were here on Atlantis with no way to get to him was tearing John up.

-----------------------

Pain stabbed through Brantor's head and he cried out, before collapsing to his knees. "I… only… live to… serve…," he managed. Through watery eyes, he could see the male Wraith sneer, before the pain in his head redoubled.

"You have failed!" the Wraith snarled. "You will answer to her!"

As if on cue, a shadowy figure walked through the trees. Even from a distance, Brantor could see it was a Queen… but not the Savior. The Queen looked around for a moment, before walking amongst the prostrate Olotians.

Brantor managed to pull in a stuttering breath and coughed, struggling to find words. It wasn't the Savior, but how could that be? "Who…?" he croaked.

The Queen descended on him and hissed loudly as she grabbed his hair. "I am your Queen!"

Powerless in her grasp, Brantor struggled to understand. "But the Savior… we… serve her…."

"She is dead! You serve me." Leaning over, the Queen fixed Brantor with a cold stare. "And I find your service lacking."

Brantor could feel the mind of the male leave his, only to be replaced with one much stronger… much crueler. He broke, a whimper escaping him. How could an immortal be dead? Succumbing, he felt her hand smack into his chest and searing pain radiated through his body. _Nasse…. _

He'd dedicated his life and the life of his daughter to the service of the Savior and yet, somehow, as his life drained away, Brantor knew the Highworld did not await him.

---------------------------

John paced.

Thirty-eight minutes had come and gone more than once, before they'd resigned themselves to the very real possibility that the gate was disabled on Olot's side. John brushed against one of the conference room chairs, and barely resisted the urge to throw it half way across the room. _Should've never left him…._ Sidestepping the offending chair he continued his repetitive route around two sides of the conference table. Deep down, he knew they'd had no choice but the knowledge only frustrated him more. Now all they could do was brief Caldwell and talk him into ferrying them to Olot… a trip that would take at least a day. _Damn it!_

"John, why don't you sit down?"

He didn't even break his stride at Elizabeth's softly voiced suggestion. "I'm good," he responded curtly.

"You're wearing a hole in the floor," Rodney snapped, but fell silent under John's dark stare.

"John," Elizabeth's voice was still quiet, but held a stronger note of insistence. "You really should sit down."

This time, her comment did cause him to pause. Stopping mid-stride, John regarded her firm but understanding expression. They'd worked together long enough that she could read him pretty well… and long enough that he'd come to respect her command. He took a deep breath, nodded once and slid into a chair next to her, just as Colonel Caldwell entered the room.

"Dr. Weir?" Caldwell stopped just inside the doorway, "I understand your people need a lift to Olot?"

John turned his head slightly and watched Elizabeth as she nodded.

"Colonel, we have a man stranded on Olot, and the gate is apparently disabled. We've tried multiple times to dial in, with no success."

Caldwell leaned back against one side of the crescent shaped table. "From what I've read, the planet is swarming with Wraith and there's most likely a hive in orbit. Pretty risky venture for one man."

"We're not leaving him behind." John stared hard at the colonel who returned his steely look.

"I never suggested it, Colonel." Caldwell's response was soft spoken but pointed. He looked back at Elizabeth. "I just want you to understand the risk involved here."

"I do, Steven," Elizabeth's voice was equally quiet.

John took a deep breath and forced down his frustration. As the commander of the Daedalus, Caldwell's job was to look out for his ship and people, something John grudgingly respected. "Just get us close enough to take a cloaked Jumper to the planet. The Daedalus can stay out of sensor range. My team will go in and find Markelli."

Caldwell's stoic stare broke slightly, revealing a note of approval. "We'll leave within the hour." He nodded once at Elizabeth and left the conference room without any further pleasantries.

Elizabeth dropped her head for a moment. "Thank you," she muttered cynically in the direction of the already departed colonel.

John pushed back from the table and stood, the rest of his team immediately following his lead. Halfway to the door, Elizabeth's voice stopped him.

"John." He turned and met her concerned gaze. "Be careful.".

John's frustration dimmed slightly, warmed by her genuine concern. "We will." He held her gaze for a moment longer, before turning and leaving the room.

------------------

John could feel the hum of the Daedalus' hyperdrive under his feet as he walked down the narrow corridor towards the mess. His frustration, dimmed slightly by the fact that they were actually **doing something** to rescue Markelli, still boiled inside him, but he stifled it. Before he set foot on that planet again, there were a few things he and his Satedan teammate needed to get straight. When he hadn't found Ronon in his quarters, John had figured the next likely place would be the mess hall. Stopping just inside the doorway, John realized his hunch had been right. He looked at Ronon, sitting alone in the far corner of the mess. John's gaze narrowed as he was reminded of the last time he'd seen Ronon eating alone….

"_Maybe someday be one of you." Ronon's deep voice was quiet. _

_John frowned. "Someday?" He shook his head. "You already are big guy." _

_It was Ronon's turn to shake his head, his dreadlocks swinging back and forth covering his expression. "I'm Satedan," he said simply. _

If there was one thing John had learned since joining an international expedition, it was that everyone had at least some ties to their native land, even though they all worked together for the success of the mission. When he'd asked Teyla to join his team, there had been adjustments to be made: mutual understandings in the differences between them that had to be reached, and had been reached. But with Ronon, someone whose entire civilization had been destroyed by the Wraith, those mutual understandings were proving to be a lot harder to find.

Sure, he was angry at Ronon for disobeying his direct order – and for taking Carson, a civilian, along for the ride – but, in the end, the Jumper had saved their butts….

John sighed. He believed in giving his people a certain amount of free rein, and wanted them to think and act for themselves, but damn it, some sort of chain of command was necessary. A wry smile turned one side of his mouth upwards. _Me? Insisting that orders have to be obeyed? _He shook off the thought and crossed the mess hall to Ronon's table. John stared down at his friend for a moment; when Ronon didn't look up, he spoke. "Mind if I sit down?"

Ronon shrugged and still didn't look up. "Fine."

John pulled out a chair, sat and folded his hands on the table. "I think we need to talk about what happened on Olot," he said quietly.

Ronon took a sip of water and set the glass down, before fixing him with a hard stare. "I did what I thought was right. Not going to apologize for it."

_God, is this how my COs felt when I disobeyed their orders? _Part of John couldn't get past the fact that the tables were definitely turned on him… and uncomfortably at that. "I want you guys to think for yourselves, but you have to follow orders too." His gaze narrowed. "When I give them, you need to follow them."

Ronon's expression was undaunted. "Without the Jumper, we wouldn't have got off that planet alive."

John sighed loudly and sat back. "I know." He drummed his fingers on the table. "Why did you go back?" He waved his hand. "And don't tell me it was for the Jumper. From what you said before, the Jumper was an afterthought." He watched as Ronon dropped his fork and stared at his plate. He resisted the urge to prompt his silent friend, and waited, if impatiently.

"Wanted my gun," Ronon finally answered quietly.

John's brows rose. "Your gun? You risked your life, and Carson's, for your gun?" He couldn't help the disbelief, tainted with disappointment, that found its way into his voice.

"Had to have it. I wasn't going to leave without it," Ronon added, never looking up.

John pushed aside his frustration and forced himself to think for a moment. In a lot of ways, Ronon was impulsive, but he wasn't rash or careless. If he had been, John would never have brought him onto his team. He pulled in a quiet but deep breath. "Why?"

Ronon grabbed his fork, but only used it to move the food around on his plate.

The silence between them lingered and John let it. Ronon had a reason, and from the looks of it, that reason was a good one, at least in his mind.

"When the Wraith turned me loose to run, I was weaponless." Ronon's voice was quiet. "The first Wraith I killed, I did it with a stake I made from a stick. After that, it was knives, my bare hands, a stunner I got from the first one that came after me… anything I could find." Ronon continued staring at the food on his plate, not making eye contact with John.

Even though Ronon wasn't looking at him, John nodded, content to let his friend continue. He'd learned quickly that Ronon was a very private man; he rarely spoke of his past. If he felt the need to now, then John was ready to listen.

"The sixth planet I escaped to was inhabited. I knew it was when I went there, but I had to have weapons, and I knew I could barter what I had for something better. I met Prax there. He was Satedan and had been travelling off world when the Wraith attacked." Ronon cleared his throat quietly, reached down, drew his gun and set it on the table between them. "I didn't know him, but he recognized me. His son, Jent, served with me before the fall of Sateda." Ronon grunted quietly, and then went on, his tone fond. "Jent. In my first year out of the military academy, he saved my life on an op against the Wraith… and lost his for it." Ronon's hand brushed over the grip of the gun where it was bound with a lock of Wraith hair. "This belonged to Jent, given to him by his father for his academy graduation." Ronon looked up, meeting John's gaze for the first time. "Prax gave me this gun. He wouldn't take anything in trade for it. He told me to carry it in Jent's memory. I have, ever since." Ronon's gaze narrowed. "With Sateda gone and my people dead, it's all I have left of my home." His gaze dropped to the gun.

John sat silently for a moment, unsure what to say. His anger at Ronon's disobedience was muted by his friend's pain. Could he really blame Ronon for trying to hold onto the one thing he had left that was truly Satedan? "I see," he finally managed in a quiet voice.

Ronon looked up. "Sheppard." He stared John in the eyes. "I respect your orders."

John returned the gaze. While Ronon didn't say any more – as usual, stoic was an understatement when it came to Ronon Dex – in his eyes, John saw every emotion churning within him, and the meaning behind his words. The respect was there, and so was the friendship. And both went a long way towards mending things between them.

John mulled over Ronon's words.

_"It's all I have left of my home…"_

"You know," he ventured quietly, as he looked away and stared at the muted blue of hyperspace outside the Daedalus' windows, "Sateda may have been destroyed, but you do have a home with us now…." His voice trailed off and he looked back, seeing the conflicted expression on Ronon's face. He leaned forward. "Ronon, no one is asking you to forget who you are; to forget Sateda. There are thing in my past.…" His mind touched on Holland, Mitch, Dex... Ford. "Well, they make me who I am. And your past makes you… well, you. Look, the point is, there's a bigger picture here then just your hatred of the Wraith, or mine, or anyone else's. I know you see it. We all do. That makes you one of us, don't you think?"

Ronon was silent for a long moment, before he shrugged slightly. "Not sure… maybe."

One side of John's mouth turned upwards. "Good enough for now." He stood, but spared one more moment to look down at his friend. "Just do me a favor and think twice before you go dragging Carson off on covert ops again, okay?"

Respect touched Ronon's eyes as he smiled slightly and nodded once.

John's smile widened. "Okay, then. Gonna get a sandwich." He held onto his smile and turned away.

-------------------------

Elizabeth almost didn't hear Carson's voice, she was so lost in her own thoughts.

"Elizabeth, are you alright?"

Snapped from her brooding, she looked up as Carson rounded her desk and stared down at her, concern filling his blue eyes. She found a small smile. "Yes, sorry. I was thinking."

Carson relaxed slightly. "Aye, I could see that." He walked back around her desk and settled into a chair. "Fine mess we find ourselves in," he ventured.

Elizabeth's smile faded. "Yes." She looked down at her desk.

After a long silent moment, Carson spoke again. "You know, my granny always says that if you spend all your time looking backwards, you'll trip over what's in front of ye."

Elizabeth looked up and met his understanding gaze. "Hindsight's twenty-twenty?"

Carson graced her with a dimpled smile. "Aye." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Don't beat yourself up over this, Elizabeth. You made what you believed were the best and right decisions every step of the way."

Her thoughts touched on the Olotians, Nasse and even Markelli; all made to pay for her decisions. "And look where we've ended up," she muttered.

"Still alive? Still here with a chance to find a way to defeat the Wraith? Is that what you mean?" Carson's gaze took on a slightly challenging look.

Elizabeth's smile was melancholy. "Hardly, but I see your point." She took a deep breath. "Speaking of which, how is our guest?"

Carson's smile faded. "Depressed. Given the circumstances, I'm not surprised, but I'm still at a loss as to what to do for her. Kelin has tried, Heightmeyer as well; no one seems to make any headway." He sat back. "I have her security detail taking her out to one of the piers for some fresh air a few times a day, just to get her out of her room."

Elizabeth abruptly stood and walked to her window. As she stared at the gate, she struggled to control her emotions. She felt her eyes burn when she thought about their innocent guest, whose life had been devastated by decisions Elizabeth had made.

"Will you return her to Olot?" Carson asked quietly, his question neutral.

Elizabeth swallowed hard. "I don't know. She deserves to be with her people, but she knows of Atlantis, that we still exist. If the Wraith get hold of her…." She abruptly turned and faced him. "Carson, what right do we have to keep her against her will?"

Carson sighed loudly. "I don't know, Elizabeth," he admitted. "I really don't."

"And yet to let her go…." Elizabeth shook her head and sat down. "Thanks for the update, Carson." She spoke quietly, but it was clear she was dismissing the doctor.

"Aye," Carson whispered. He stood and paused a moment. "Everyone here knows that whatever choice you make, you'll make it for what you think are the right reasons. For what it's worth, Elizabeth, that's a good enough reason for any of us."

Elizabeth could only nod as, silently, he left her alone.

----------------------------------

John eased the Jumper out of the Daedalus' landing bay and immediately cloaked as he banked left and headed for Olot.

"We'll be waiting here for you, Colonel," Caldwell's voice came over the radio, "as long as the hive doesn't come this way. If we have to jump to hyperspace, sit tight. We'll be back when we can."

John exchanged a look with Rodney, who was in the seat next to him. The prospect of being stranded on Olot didn't sit right with any of them. They'd already tempted fate twice, and John didn't really want to think about the third time being a charm. "Copy that," he replied.

"Good luck, Sheppard. Daedalus out."

John closed the channel and again looked at Rodney. "As soon as we're in range, scan for Markelli's sub-q transmitter."

"Obviously," Rodney snapped. "The Daedalus didn't read any life signs from Olot, but we're pretty far out. I'll have more accurate readings when we get closer."

"Think he's still alive?" Ronon asked.

John turned but, instead of looking at his Satedan teammate, his gaze went past Ronon and settled on Spencer and Levitt, both sitting quietly in the back of the Jumper. He didn't want to dash their hopes, but he couldn't deny that the chances they'd find Markelli at all, much less alive, were slim. He took a deep breath.

"Markelli's a survivor." He nodded as Levitt looked at him. "There's a chance." He stared at the young corporal, refusing to dash all his hopes. Hell, they wouldn't be here in the first place if John didn't have a few slim hopes of his own. Turning back, he focused his attention on the bright dot in the windshield as they gradually closed in on Olot.

"Hello…," Rodney muttered.

"What?" John glanced at him.

"Oh great." Rodney shook his head. "Hive ship in orbit. Based on the energy signature, it's Eresgal's hive… or, that is, her former hive…"

John gritted his teeth. "Good thing the Daedalus stayed where she is and we're cloaked," he commented, his voice full of the resolve he felt inside. Hive or no, if Markelli was down there, he damned well wasn't going to leave him behind.

"Right." Rodney paused. "You… we are cloaked, right?"

John shot him a dirty look. "McKay…."

"Yeah… well… just checking," Rodney stammered.

John's grip on the controls tightened as Olot drew closer and the distinct form of a hive could be seen in orbit.

"Scanning the planet… sporadic life signs… God…." Rodney's voice trailed off.

"What is it?" Teyla asked.

"I'm only detecting a handful of life signs. There used to be thousands. Now I'd guess there's maybe a hundred at the most?"

John swallowed against the knot that twisted his gut and nauseated him. "Guess the Wraith weren't too happy we got away," he managed quietly.

"Bastards," Rodney whispered, "I mean the Olotians aren't… weren't at the top of my list of favorite people but this… this is just a cold blooded slaughter."

John took a deep breath and refocused. "Markelli?"

"Scanning… got it," Rodney proclaimed.

John stared hard out the windshield as he started his descent through Olot's atmosphere. "Any other life signs in the general vicinity of Markelli?"

"No," Rodney answered, "well, none that I can detect."

John rolled his eyes and shot Rodney an annoyed look.

"What?" Rodney retorted. "It's interference! Probably left over from the Hive firing on the planet. This area seemed to take a greater concentration of fire, probably because of its proximity to Brantor's village. It's not like I can do anything about it!"

"Crap." John exhaled loudly. "Okay, we risk it. I'm not coming this far to turn back." He looked over his shoulder. "Gear up."

"Feeding the coordinates to navigation now," Rodney commented to no one in particular.

John nodded. "I'll set us down as close as possible, but it looks like Markelli is in the woods. We'll have to leave the Jumper in the clear and go in on foot."

It wasn't long before the Jumper passed through the clouds and the open grasslands surrounded by trees came into view.

"I swore I'd never come back to this planet," Rodney groused quietly.

John scowled. "After today, none of us have to," he answered resolutely. Even after the senseless slaughter of the Olotian people he didn't have a spark of sympathy in him for those that were still alive. When they'd held a knife to the throat of one of his team, and tried to kill all of them… when Erickson had died and they'd been forced to leave Markelli behind, he'd lost his compassion. He squinted, looking for the gate, and his eyes widened as he spotted it. "Whoa."

"What…? Oh!" Rodney exclaimed as he also caught sight of the gate. "That explains why we couldn't dial in…."

John shook his head. Where once a graceful arch had stood, now only rubble remained. It was as if something had ripped the entire crest of the gate away, leaving only the base behind. About ten feet of gate, on each side of what was once the arch, still stood anchored in the ground. The rest was gone. There was no sign of the DHD, but John suspected the large, charred spot on the ground in front of the remains of the gate was all that was left. "Guess the Wraith are done with this planet," he said quietly, before banking the Jumper away from the gate and towards the trees.

As close to the trees as he dared, John gently landed the Jumper and looked again to Rodney. "Any life signs?"

"No," Rodney shook his head, his expression stoic. "Not even one." He fixed John with a somber stare.

John pushed his emotions down and smothered them with masked professionalism. Reaching down, he grabbed his P-90 and stood. "Let's go. I'm on point." He passed by his people and smacked the hatch release. "We find Markelli, we get out of here."

As the hatch lowered, John raised his P-90 warily, but only empty grasslands greeted him. He slowly walked down the ramp and glanced at Rodney, who was staring at his life signs detector.

Rodney pointed left, towards the trees. "That way."

John cloaked the Jumper and then turned, slowly walking towards the tree line. Near as he could guess, they were about a half mile from where their last battle with the Wraith had taken place. While staying in close proximity to the gate, Markelli had, apparently, given the Wraith a hell of a run. He proceeded into the thick trees and flipped on the light on his gun to fight back the twilight shadows.

"Hundred yards," Rodney whispered.

John nodded, and then froze in his tracks as his light caught on the fed-upon remains of several Olotians. "Yep," he whispered cynically, "I'm guessin' the hive was pissed."

"Sheppard."

John turned at Ronon's hail and fixed his light on the withered remains of an Olotian that Ronon had taken particular interest in. As he moved closer, John grimaced. Though the figure was only the husk of what had once been a man, John still recognized the unmistakable features of Brantor. "So much for redemption," he muttered. A tinge of remorse hit him, but not for Brantor; as far as John was concerned the Olotian man had made his own bed. But he felt sorry for Nasse, who had just lost not only her people, but now her father too. He took a deep breath and glanced at Rodney. "McKay?"

Rodney pointed along their original path. "That way."

John continued straight ahead, working his way through the trees, until his light caught on something reflective. Refocusing his attention, he had to swallow against nausea again as he spotted what was left of the captain. "Damn it," he cussed quietly, but emphatically.

"Oh no…," Rodney echoed.

Slowly, John picked his way through Wraith corpses and walked up to Markelli's body. He knelt and examined the area around them: it was littered with shell casings and the dead Wraith, each sported several gunshot wounds. A few feet from Markelli's body lay his P-90, the last empty magazine still loaded. Closer to him was an empty spare clip for the nine-mil that still rested in his limp hand.

John's gaze passed over Markelli's body, and he tried to ignore the coagulated blood from the Captain's massive head wound as he reached for his dog tags.

"Is that…?" Rodney started.

"He shot himself," John interrupted gruffly. Behind him, he heard the sound of retching and looked over his shoulder to see Levitt's hunched body. Spencer, his face expressionless, had a firm grip on Levitt's arm.

John looked back to Markelli as he pulled the tags from the captain's neck.

"Why would he do that?" Rodney's voice sounded as pale as his face was.

"Look around, McKay," Ronon answered quietly. "He was surrounded and out of ammo."

"He shot himself to keep from being captured," John added. "To keep Atlantis safe." He slipped the tags in his vest pocket. "The Wraith would've interrogated him and found out about Atlantis. They know what Eresgal knew, that we're still around, but they didn't find out that the city still existed." John inhaled deeply and finished quietly, "Markelli sacrificed himself to keep that secret." He stood. "Come on. We need to get out of here." He hated to leave the body of his captain behind, but trying to move him through the woods and back to the Jumper would be next to impossible, and every minute they delayed would increase the chances of them being discovered. Oddly, John took comfort in the fact that if they left now and escaped, Markelli's death wouldn't be for nothing.

He walked over to Levitt and put his hand on the corporal's shoulder. "You okay?"

Levitt spat once and nodded. He looked back at Markelli. "We're just going to leave him like that, sir?"

John nodded. "Don't have a choice." He waited until Levitt looked back at him. "Markelli would understand."

"Yes, sir," the young corporal whispered.

John gave his shoulder one quick squeeze and stepped back. "I'm on point. Ronon, take the six. Let's get the hell off this planet once and for all." Wasting no time, he led his team back to the Jumper and safety.

--------------------

John walked down the ramp of the Jumper and into the 302 bay. He stopped, mid stride, as Caldwell's voice came over the ship-wide communications.

"Colonel Sheppard, please report to the bridge."

Arching his brow slightly, he glanced sideways at Rodney. Normally, he'd chafe at the distinct tone of command in the Colonel's voice, but today…. He sighed, his mind too preoccupied with other things to really care. Reaching up, he tapped his headset. "On my way."

It didn't take long for him to make his way to the bridge, his team close behind him. He crossed in front of navigation and stopped next to Caldwell, before focusing his gaze on the HUD display in front of them.

"Thought you might want to see this, Colonel," Caldwell muttered.

John stared at the display for a moment, before his lips tightened in response to what he was seeing. "Another hive. Looks like they want to cull the planet."

"I thought this was Eresgal's… umm… feeding ground?" Rodney wondered out loud.

"It was," Teyla answered. "They must know that Eresgal is dead. It is likely this hive is pressing their claim to this world…." Teyla's voice trailed off as her eyes widened and she sucked in a sharp breath.

John took a step towards here. "Teyla? What is it?"

Teyla blinked hard and slowly shook her head. "A… queen."

"The second Hive ship?" John asked.

"No." Teyla's response was immediate. "That hive is queen-less. The queen… it is Eresgal's hive."

"What?" Rodney exclaimed. He looked over at John. "I thought you killed her."

John stiffened. "I did!"

"No." Teyla shook her head. "It is not Eresgal. This one is… young, unproven, but she is strong…." Teyla swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut.

John's gaze narrowed at her distressed expression, and he took yet another step towards her. He was worried not only for her safety but for everyone on board . The Hives didn't know the Daedalus was there. If that changed…."Teyla, break it off," he demanded quietly.

Her eyes still shut, Teyla's nod was jerky. Abruptly, her shoulders sagged and she breathed deeply.

"You okay?" John asked softly.

Teyla nodded. "Yes. She did not detect me but her mind was… formidable."

"Where the hell did she come from?" John wondered aloud.

"Who knows?" Rodney answered. "There's so much about the Wraith we don't know, including where queens come from, or anything about Wraith reproduction for that matter."

"Not something I'm too excited to explore," John quipped darkly. His gaze narrowed as Eresgal's hive opened fire on the intruder, which returned shots of their own. "With any luck, they'll destroy each other," he muttered.

"At least Eresgal's hive," McKay answered. "They know about us, remember?"

"What about the other one? Would they know?" Caldwell asked.

"Damn," John muttered, "if they do…."

"No way," Rodney answered. "Hives don't exactly share valuable information with each other. I'd say the possible existence of Atlantis and therefore the doorway to Earth, would be too valuable for Eresgal to have shared with anyone outside her Hive."

John nodded. Rodney had a good point. "Never thought I'd be rooting for a Hive, but I hope to hell hope the intruder kicks the new girl's ass." He winced as Eresgal's Hive abruptly disappeared in a brilliant flash.

"Score for the intruder," Rodney muttered.

"And for us," John answered. His gaze narrowed as the surviving Darts from the intruder veered away from the wreckage of Eresgal's Hive and headed towards Olot. "They're culling the planet."

Caldwell nodded. "Looks that way."

John's now fully developed dislike of the Olotians warred with his hatred of the Wraith and what they did to humans. "The gate's destroyed," he muttered. "There's no escape."

"Why?" Rodney interjected. "Eresgal's hive killed almost the entire population. There's hardly anything left to cull."

John stared at the HUD display, his gaze boring through it to fix on the distant planet and, in an instant, he finally realized what agonized Elizabeth. After everything that had happened, he'd been pretty sure that there was no sympathy for the Olotians left in him, but seeing this, seeing them slaughtered and then the remnants hunted like scared rabbits, wronged his morals in more ways than one. It was all he could do to just stand there and watch. Not lift a finger, not do anything, just watch.

Rationally, he knew there was nothing they could do. The Daedalus was outmatched. But in his gut, he wanted nothing more than to charge in, guns blazing, and make them pay for being the damned bastards that they were. He glanced at Rodney. "Food's scarce, remember?" He nearly spat his answer.

"There is no way the surviving Olotians would make it through the winter," Teyla added quietly. "Even a hundred humans… help… the Wraith."

John tensed at her words, anger and helplessness nearly making him shake. Whipping around, he stormed from the bridge, leaving the rest of them in his wake.

---------------------

John often found peace listening to the quiet lapping of the ocean against the pier far below and the cool fresh breeze ruffling his hair; today, he found none. He stared out across the ocean, his gaze as distant as his thoughts. It was a long moment before he realized Kelin had joined him. Taking a deep breath, he glanced sideways at his friend for a moment, before returning his attention to the view. "You know what happened." It was a statement, not a question.

"Teyla told me," Kelin replied. "You did everything you could to help, John."

"Doesn't really matter, does it?" John let his anger show in the cynical tone of his quiet response. But, as Kelin stood rock still next to him, John knew his friend wasn't fazed by it.

"To those left on Olot, no," Kelin responded. "But perhaps to one scared girl stranded on Atlantis, it may mean much." He looked over at John. "And it should mean much to you."

John sighed deeply and looked down. "This isn't doing much to make me feel better, Kelin."

"That was not my intention."

John's brows furrowed, and he looked up at the understanding expression on his friend's face.

One side of Kelin's mouth turned up slightly in a rueful smile. "I believe, right now, that would be impossible." His smile faded. "But it should give you perspective."

John looked away, his gaze fixing on the distant East Pier. Wasn't he the one that told Elizabeth that she'd made decisions based on what she thought was right? That she did what she had to do, what was the right thing to do, even if the outcome wasn't ideal? John forced himself to look objectively at the chain of events that had led them to this point. He was forced to admit that, while the end result sucked, at each step along the way they'd acted in their best interest… and even in the best interest of the Olotians. It was the Wraith that had damned all of them to this outcome. He shook his head slightly. "Guess I should be pissed at the Wraith more than anyone," he admitted quietly.

"Including the Olotians," Kelin answered.

John's lips tightened for a moment. "Having a harder time with that one."

Kelin nodded slightly. "Tell me, John, do you think Nasse is a victim in all of this?"

John's brow quirked as he nodded back. "Yeah, probably the biggest one."

"Brantor and the other Olotians?"

"Not so much," John answered.

Kelin turned and faced John. "Really? Brantor's biggest crime was that he tried to do what was best for his people." Kelin's tone compelled John to look at him. "You have killed to protect your people before, John. Was what Brantor did so different?"

John's sharply drawn-in breath hissed through his teeth. "That's different."

Kelin cocked his head. "Is it? War is full of many such ugly things. Brantor was brainwashed: a victim of his culture… a culture created by the Wraith." Kelin looked away. "I suspect, when his end came, he realized the truth of what he was and what he had done. That was probably a greater punishment than you or I could have ever imposed on him."

John sighed. "You're not doing anything to help me sleep better at night, Kelin."

Kelin grunted quietly. "True. But consider this: everything you did, from bartering medical supplies for knowledge to returning to the planet to try to help them after the attack, was done out of compassion and a genuine desire to help. That, alone, should help you sleep, John."

John rested one hand on the cool railing. "It's myself I have to go to bed with at night," he muttered. He looked over at Kelin's confused gaze. "It's an old Earth expression. Ultimately, you really only have yourself to answer to."

Kelin nodded. "And did you do what your conscience said you should do?"

One side of John's mouth turned up in a hollow smile. "Yeah, I did." He felt Kelin's hand on his arm, and once again met the Athosian man's gaze.

"Then hold tightly to that, my friend. Ultimately, it is what matters." Kelin held onto his arm for another moment, before he let go and walked away.

John watched him go. He had done what he'd thought was right. Hell, they all had. In spite of the outcome, that much was one good thing that came of it. It was the Wraith to blame. Then again, most of what happened in this galaxy circled back to them somehow. John's anger turned to steeled resolve. Just one more reason they had to find a way to defeat the Wraith. Then the deaths of the Olotians, and humans throughout this galaxy, not to mention the small death of innocence each of the expedition team had endured, would be worth something.

-----------------------

Elizabeth folded her hands on the conference room table and smiled thinly at the gazes that silently met hers. No one had much to say: all of them carried their own ghosts away from the Olotian ordeal.

She fixed her gaze on Kelin. His eyes were full of compassion as he stared wordlessly back at her. Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Kelin, I've asked you to this briefing because of Nasse."

Kelin nodded once. "There are no Olotians left?"

John spoke up, his voice edged with tension. "No. When we broke orbit and headed back for the Daedalus, the surviving Hive was culling Olot."

"After all that has happened," Teyla interjected quietly, "it is doubtful that the Wraith would want any possible dissention to spread to other, loyal planets. If this Hive wishes to continue exploiting worshipper societies on other worlds in that sector, they can best ensure that is possible by destroying the gate and killing the Olotians."

"At least Atlantis' secret died with Eresgal's hive," Rodney muttered.

"Small comfort," John answered coldly.

Elizabeth nodded silently. Her lips tightened as she glanced at John's grim expression. She'd talked to both Teyla and Caldwell when the Daedalus had returned from Olot, and knew how he'd reacted to the destruction.

Elizabeth looked back at Kelin. "With the destruction of her people and the death of her father, Nasse will need a new home." Her gaze shifted to Teyla, who seemed to exchange some sort of silent communication with Kelin before they both nodded.

"She may come and live with us, if she wishes." Kelin returned his gaze to Elizabeth. "Amongst us, she will be safe, and her knowledge of Atlantis will no longer be a concern."

Elizabeth smiled slightly at him, and once more found herself grateful for the strong alliance with the Athosians. First the Pallan refugees, now Nasse: the generosity of Teyla's people sometimes astounded her. "Thank you." She stared for a moment at Kelin, before turning the same grateful gaze on Teyla. The Athosian nodded back with a small smile of her own.

With Nasse's future settled, the last loose ends from Olot debacle were almost tied up. Almost, but not quite. Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Before we adjourn, there's one more thing." She looked up, her gaze traveling around the table. "A lot has happened in the last few weeks, but you all need to know that none of this is the fault of any of you." She leaned forward, resting her weight on her arms and intensified her gaze. "Each of you has performed above and beyond expectations. I'm telling each of you not to harbor any guilt over the fate of the Olotians. It is not your fault."

The room was silent for a moment, before Teyla spoke quietly. "Nor is it yours, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth pursed her lips and shrugged slightly, acknowledging that Teyla was right but that her words were as comforting as her own had probably been. Moving to end the meeting, she was interrupted by a hail for John coming across her radio. She turned her attention to him as he tapped his headset.

"This is Sheppard."

"Colonel, this is Sergeant Miller. We have a situation. Southwest Pier, Level 5, Balcony 2."

John's gaze narrowed as he stood. "What's going on, Sergeant?"

"It's the Olotian girl, Colonel." Miller's voice sounded concerned. "I think she might try to jump."

Elizabeth gasped, but before she could even move, John was halfway to the door. He spared a glance back at her.

"We could use Heightmeyer." He turned and ran out the door, not waiting for her response, Teyla and Ronon right behind him. "And seal off the level," he tossed the order back in her direction. "We don't need bystanders wandering in!"  
"I'll coordinate from here, and then meet you there." Elizabeth saw that Rodney looked stunned, while Kelin looked puzzled. "Nasse…," she paused.

"She's going to jump," Rodney supplied in a horrified voice.

Kelin was on his feet and following John, Teyla and Ronon in an instant. Rodney sat for a moment longer, before he shook off his shock and headed after them, while Elizabeth's hand went to her headset. Pushing away her fear, she pulled on her command skills and hailed the psychologist.

------------------------

John charged through the exterior doors and stopped dead as he spotted Nasse at the other end of the large balcony. She'd stepped over the railing and was perched precariously on the edge, only her grip on the railing behind her keeping her from falling. _If she slips…._ He held out his arm, stopping the entourage that was following him from going any further. "Hang on. We don't want to startle her." His gaze refocused on Miller and Simms, Nasse's guard detail, who both trotted over to him.

Miller nodded once. "Colonel, I don't know how this happened. Every day we bring her here for some fresh air. Simms and I always try to back off and give her a little privacy. She's never shown any signs of doing this before, but today she just stepped over the railing before we even knew what was going on."

John nodded curtly. "Its okay, Miller, it's not you guys' fault. No one saw this coming."

"Perhaps we should wait for Dr. Heightmeyer?" Teyla volunteered, but John shook his head.

"No. If she slips, it's all over." Urgency prompted him to act, to do something. His gaze quickly passed over his teammates. "Stay here. I don't want all of us descending on her either." He looked at Kelin and, for an instant, his mind flashed back to his own ordeal, his own pain… and the calm strength the Athosian man had lent him. "Kelin, with me?" he questioned.

Kelin glanced quickly at Teyla and then looked back to John and nodded once. "Yes."

John nodded back. "I'll go left, you go right." He took a moment to look at the rest of them. "Be ready to jump in, if we need you." He tapped his headset. "I'm on Voxx on the command channel. Get Heightmeyer on as soon as she gets here."

John turned back towards Nasse but glanced at Kelin, who stood next to him.

"Go softly, John. She is anguished and scared."

John nodded. "She's in a dangerous spot. Could fall without jumping. Be ready to grab her if you can." Moving left and away from Kelin, who went right, John slowly walked towards the railing. Still a considerable distance from Nasse, he stopped and settled his left hand on the cool top rail. "Nasse?" He kept his voice gentle, while still raising it enough for her to hear him. He resisted the urge to leap in her direction as her body jerked in surprise and she stiffened. "Whoa, easy… just take it easy." John forced his voice to remain calm in spite of the adrenaline that coursed through him. Even from this distance, he could see the pale anguish on her drawn face. He took a step towards her. "Why don't you come back over the railing and talk to us?"

"Leave me alone." Nasse's voice was void of any emotion, but the command in her tone was clear. "I have nothing to say to you."

John glanced past her to Kelin, who was slowly moving her direction from the right.

She turned her head towards Kelin. "Keep away!"

Kelin froze, mid step and raised his hands. "I will not hurt you, Nasse."

John refocused his gaze on the girl. "Nasse, you don't have to do this. We can help you."

"As you helped my father? My people?" she shot back, emotion finally coloring her voice. "I overheard two people in the hallway. Olot is destroyed! My father is dead and it is your fault!"

John winced, his mind racing. _Of all the things to overhear in the hallway…._ "Nasse, I'm sorry. We should've told you right away. We were going to, I promise that."

"Your promises mean nothing," she answered quietly. "I have… nothing."

"Colonel," Heightmeyer's voice came over John's headset. "Keep her talking. You have to talk her down, but don't try to grab her or make any sudden moves. Just keep talking to her. The moment she stops talking, she could jump."

John looked back towards the tower and watched as Heightmeyer cautiously made her way towards them.

John took another step towards Nasse. The finality in her voice set off all kinds of alarms in him, and Heightmeyer's statement only confirmed his dread. "Wait," he raised his hand. "Remember the first time we met?" he asked, trying to keep the tension from his voice. "Nasse," he urged, "do you remember?"

"Yes," she answered quietly.

"I told you that you could trust me, and you told me that you and Rund just wanted to spend your life together." John took another step and gradually closed the distance between them.

"Rund is dead," she whispered, pain creeping into her voice. "What do I have left without my people?"

"Life," John immediately answered. "Don't you think Rund would've wanted you to live?"

"I will not live in blasphemy," Nasse whispered. Slowly, she looked at John. "Or with the damned."

John stiffened as he watched the emotion fall away from her gaze… except her eyes, which held what he could only call hysteria. He took another step, trying to get closer to her as he instinctively felt she was done talking. "Nasse…," he reached out towards her and took another step, shifting his weight forward on the balls of his feet, ready to leap. "Nasse, don't do this…."

She broke gazes with him. Her attention drifted downward and her eyes widened. "I have nothing to say to you," she whispered.

John's instincts screamed at him, their blaring internal alarm forcing him to act. Over the roaring in his ears, he could hear Heightmeyer's warning, chorused with Kelin's shout. His gaze zeroed in on Nasse, and he leapt for her just as she let go and tumbled forward.

"NO!" John practically threw himself over the railing, his fingers brushing over fabric, but that was the closest he got. His torso hanging precariously over the railing and his hand reaching out, he could only watch as Nasse's body drew away from him, growing smaller and smaller, until it disappeared amongst the buildings far below.

John dropped his head, his outstretched arm going limp. "God damn it," he whispered. After a long moment, he straightened, but his gaze was still fixed hundreds of feet below them. His hands closed in a vice-like grip around the railing as he felt Kelin's hand on his back.

"You did everything you could, John." Kelin spoke quietly.

"Yeah," John whispered, but he still couldn't pull his gaze away from that spot, somewhere far below, which had claimed the life of a young girl whose worst crime had been knowledge.

-----------------------------

_Epilogue: _

Predictably, John found Elizabeth standing on the Deck, staring at the ocean. He doubted she'd heard the door open, and her unmoving stance only proved that. He stood in the doorway for a long moment, studying her. For not the first time, he felt deep respect for the strength she carried, a strength he wasn't sure she even knew she had. From the instant they'd stepped through the gate, this galaxy had thrown more crap at her than any one person should have to endure. Somehow, she'd come through all of that, still holding strong to who she was.

His thoughts drifted to the Olotians. They, more than anyone, had shaken the core of her beliefs, and he'd seen the effect on her.

"_What about my own values, John? I have to hold myself to my own standards, no matter where I am or what the rules are."_

_John swallowed hard before narrowing his gaze. "And are you?"  
_

_She sighed deeply and looked away. "I don't know." _

He sighed and walked out onto the Deck. "Elizabeth?" he asked quietly.

Slowly, she turned and faced him. Her face was lined with tension as she took a deep breath. "What is it?"

He swallowed. "I had Miller ferry Teyla and Kelin to the mainland, along with Nasse's… body." He looked away for a second, before meeting her gaze again. "Kelin insisted on seeing to her final arrangements, since…."

"Since she had no family left," Elizabeth finished for him.

John saw a distinct glistening in her eyes an instant before she turned away from him. His brows furrowed in concern as he stared at her rigid back, and his mind went back to how Kelin had found him looking and doing much the same a few days ago. Maybe he couldn't offer any comfort, but perhaps some perspective….

Crossing the Deck, he walked up next to her and silently rested his hands on the railing. He glanced sideways and saw her take one deep and uneven breath and then another, as she regained her composure.

"We made a hell of a mess, John," she whispered.

He considered her words for a moment before nodding slightly. "Yeah, we did." He let the silence between them linger for several minutes, before he turned and faced her. Leaning his elbow on the railing, he stared intently at her. "Penny?"

Elizabeth blinked heavily, as if coming out of deep thought. "Sorry?"

"Penny for your thoughts." He gave her a very slight smile.

Elizabeth's expression took on a distinct, cynical air. "I don't think a penny will cover it."

John quirked his brows. "Nickel? Dime? Think I have a quarter…." His smile deepened slightly as a small one graced her mouth. His smile faded. "What are you thinking?" he insisted gently.

"I was thinking about Winston Churchill," she said softly.

John nodded silently, wondering what she was driving at. "Oh?" he finally said in his best non-committal voice.

"The Enigma Code." Her head dropped and she seemed to study her knuckles.

John's lips pressed together as he nodded quietly, his mind quickly drawing the parallels between their war with the Wraith, and Churchill's decision in World War II to sacrifice merchant fleets to the Nazis in order to protect the fact the Allies had broken the Enigma Code and were gaining vital intelligence from it. Churchill had resigned himself to sacrificing innocent men's lives in order to preserve a vital component in winning the war.

His mind turned to the Olotians. _Merchant fleet of the Pegasus Galaxy…?_ Was it really that different? He took a deep breath and realized it wasn't. The Olotians, whatever their beliefs were, didn't deserve the fate they'd been handed. By visiting their planet, in hopes of finding technology to use against the Wraith, and by letting them die to preserve the secret of the city's continued existence, they'd done more than just protect the lives of the people he and Elizabeth were sworn to protect, they'd safeguarded Atlantis: the last and best hope the galaxy had to defeat the Wraith and save millions of humans in the process. The Olotians were sacrificed in a battle… in order to win the war.

He pulled himself from his thoughts as Elizabeth turned a questioning look on him, and nodded once. "I get it."

Her head dropped. "God, John. Do I have a right to even presume that our survival is more important than the Olotians? To play God and decide who has the right to survive and who doesn't? Does that make me any better than the Wraith?"

John's gaze narrowed. "Elizabeth, look at me." His voice held a note of quiet command quietly and waited until she met his gaze before continuing. "The fact that you're standing here, tearing yourself up over this, puts you a long walk ahead of the Wraith." His brows rose slightly… imploringly. "Churchill always said that his decision over the Enigma Code was one of the hardest things he ever did." He reached out and squeezed her shoulder in a rare moment of physical contact. "Your conscience distinguishes you from the Wraith, Elizabeth. Nothing about this war is perfect… including the decisions we have to make, to win it." He held her shoulder a moment longer, before she inhaled deeply and nodded.

"You're right."

John let go of her and stepped back. Her voice had been quiet, but it held a familiar note of strength and resolution that matched her renewed expression.

She looked out over the ocean once more. "Thou shalt not be a victim. Thou shalt not be a perpetrator. Above all, thou shalt not be a bystander," she said quietly, before looking over at John. "I saw it at the entrance to the Holocaust Museum in DC."

John nodded slowly. "Poignant."

Elizabeth straightened and turned towards him. "Relevant, don't you think?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked back into Ops.

John watched the door close behind her, but he didn't follow. Since coming to Pegasus, they'd all had to come to terms with decisions they were forced to make… or decisions they made for the right reasons that had the wrong outcome. For waking the Wraith early, he carried the weight of a galaxy of humans culled before their time squarely on his own shoulders. It was something he'd found a way to deal with, to come to terms with, and now he saw Elizabeth complete the same journey. She carried the weight of the destruction of the Olotian people squarely on her back, and she was forever changed by it. But, tragic as it was, the Olotian ordeal had made her see the kind of leader she'd have to be in order to defeat the Wraith. It'd cleared barriers that stopped her from making decisions that sometimes had to be made. Decisions that were imperfect… decisions that would scar her, but ultimately could lead to the Wraith's downfall. When that day came, it would be worth it… in its own bittersweet way.

He thought of the friendly, easy smile she'd graced him with when they'd met at the SGC just before leaving for Atlantis: a smile and an ease he'd probably never see again. _Just one more reason to hate the Wraith._ Yet he couldn't think of another person he'd rather have leading the expedition. She had the conscience to be torn up by the decisions she had to make, but the strength to ultimately make them. As long as that internal struggle continued, they'd be okay.

John sighed deeply and nodded to himself as he pushed aside his thoughts in favor of falling back into the routine of life on Atlantis, but not before one last thought crossed his mind. _She'll be fine… we all will._ In spite of the darkness that still lingered from the ordeal they were only just beginning to put behind them, he smiled slightly before re-entering the city, leaving the serene ocean behind him.

-END-

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_Author's Notes:_

_It's taken me a long time to write this story, mostly because I had to think long and hard about what I ultimately wanted to do with it. Mostly, it's about the change in the team's perspective, especially Elizabeth, who went from quoting the Geneva Convention in season 1, to authorizing experiments on a captured Wraith in season 2. The episode Michael showed a significant change in all of them, but especially her. I felt something must've happened to bring about the realization of just how far they might have to go, in order to win the war against the Wraith. _

_But another part of me was intrigued by the concept of "Wraith Worshippers" established in The Hive, and I wanted to look at that as well. _

_I know this story doesn't have a nicely tied up ending. It never was intended to and I don't think it was possible given the journey the characters were taking in it. A nicely tied up ending with everyone happy and all good, would never lead them to the point they had to get to as characters, to fit how canon progressed especially through the end of season 2. In truth, in their war against the Wraith there have been many less than perfect moments and outcomes which is fitting, considering who and what they were fighting. To me, it was more realistic and fit the story._

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_Farsi Phrases:_

_**Chiy gap ast?**__ - What's going on?_

_**I'm sick**__ - Mariz hastum_

_**Shoma hub ast?**__ - Are you ok?_

_----------------------------------------------_

_Athosian Karra, terms taken variation of Latin words. In the Stargate universe, it's been implied that Latin is based on the Ancient language._

_**Grace **__= venia = veniatta_

_**Strength **__= robur = roburat_

_**Calm **__= sedo = Sedo_


End file.
